IndyMethodDoubleFlipTwistRoll WIPEOUT
by I am the Hodgeheg
Summary: Ray has one skiing holiday to admit his feelings for Kai and convince him that he feels the same way. Will he manage it, despite being hampered by his nonexistant snowboarding skills and famous 'open mouth, insert foot' ability? KaiRay
1. I feel like a green plastic army man

IndyMethodDoubleFlipTwistRoll – wipeout…

Chapter 1 – Day 1. I feel like a green plastic army man.

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I swear, this thing will be the death of me.

Seriously! Having your feet practically nailed to this board and then shoved off a mountainside is not my idea of a relaxing holiday. Unfortunately, this is a team thing, and no matter what I do, or what I say, we are here, firmly ensconced in the b-e-a-u-tiful scenery of Canada. Oh, I didn't mention that tiny other thing. I'm here with, not only my team, but also the rest of that happy crowd that seem to have included themselves in the 'Elite Blading Club' as Tyson so _loves _to call it.

Thankfully, there is one tiny element of sanity in my life. The lifeboat of reason that I can cling to when things get rough in these stormy seas. The walking piece of heaven that, given his attitude, probably shouldn't be here at all.

Praise the Lord and all of his holy affiliations that he is here though, because if he weren't, I don't think I could hold on much longer to the last shred of rationality lodged in my mind. My self-control was already tested to breaking point on the plane journey here – I don't need, and can't take, this aggravation.

Oh, wait! My saviour has just glided – no, that sounds wrong. Glidden? Nah, that's not right either. Meh, I can't be stuffed – through the doors. Hey, over here! Look at me, a mere mortal being!!! One that deserves your attention!!!!!

Mission unaccomplished. He didn't so much as open his eyes, that's how supernatural he is. He can walk in a straight line, negotiate any people and furniture in his way, without opening his eyes. And what nice eyes he has… That crystal clear violet, so vibrant that they seem to flicker with amethyst fire. That is, whenever he can be bothered to open them.

Have you not guessed who my angel from the netherworld is yet? Correct. He is that signal beacon of perfection that goes by the mortal name of Kai Hiwatari – without a doubt the best thing to have entered my life since toilet paper. Things were a little…basic back in my village.

Unfortunately, his sentiments are not exactly akin to mine, so while I sit here, worshipping him from afar, he has not so much as noticed me. The other problem is that when he does, it is usually for the **wrong** reasons. For example: when I launch badly, when I fumble a move (probably because I've been staring into his eyes again. Such lovely eyes…), if I walk into things (again, because I have been watching him) or if I injure myself in some way, reduced to writhing around on the floor in pain. Still, that's not as bad as last week, when I cried whilst watching _The Titanic_. It was sad, okay!!!!

But anyway, back to the here and now. My team and I are here in the Canadian Rockies, subjected to a holiday involving snow and the use of which thereof. Who else is here? I can never remember all of their names. I'm sure I've got a list in one of my innumerable pockets. I swear these ski jackets could house the entire equipment list of the SAS. Ah, here it is!

Hiro. He's here to be that commanding adult figure, as well as Tyson's guardian. He's responsible for all of us on our stay here, and thus responsible for any injuries we may sustain. Come on, it's a skiing holiday. I'll bet you seven helpings of Judy Tate's special noodle stew that we come away from this with at least three broken bones in our party.

Brooklyn. I suppose he's here to admire the wildlife. We saw some elk on the coach journey here, and you wouldn't have been able to pry him away from the window with a crowbar. He's a nice guy though, very tranquil, even if he's out of his mind. If I'm teetering on the edge of insanity, he's all the way over.

Mystel. Woo, someone vaguely normal. Well, as normal as professional beybladers seem to get these days. We're all insane in some way. Tyson has the stomach of an elephant, Max can get hyper on thumbtacks I swear, Brooklyn is a nature freak, Hiro has this obsession with wearing rock-star sunglasses, I'm a gay neko-jin that thinks waaay too much and Kai is…well, so out of this world that he doesn't count anyway. On the other hand, I'm sure Mystel is genetically modified or something, because how else would he be able to jump that high? Maybe he was grown in a lab and given the jumping skills of a flea or something.

Garland. Oh, the honour guy. Poor thing, really. Driven to be the best by an over-encouraging family. Why did he pick this sport to excel at? Go and pick another one that harbours more sane people! Save yourself while you can!!!!

Miguel. Ooh, another fairly sane one. Though, I have some doubts about the stability of his mind set, owing to the fact that he served under that weird control freak Barthez. I don't care whether they broke free from his control or not, spending so much time with someone who should be institutionalised can't be good for you.

Julia and Raul. Together, even in a list of separate people. They scare me, especially when they finish each other's sentences. It's freaky, I tell you! Why are they here anyway? Maybe Tyson's sucking up to them after beating them in the World Championships. Or maybe he's invited them so he can gloat about his victory. It's probably the latter.

Salima. Interesting. Haven't seen her in a while. Come to think of it, I didn't see her on the plane either. Mind you, she's a bit quiet, and I suspect she was sitting next to some of the rowdier members of our happy little group. Either that or I was too busy drooling over the image of perfection sitting next to me. This is no mean feat, I can tell you. Kai seems to have this radar so that he knows exactly when you're looking at him. Thankfully, he fell asleep halfway through, so I was able to drink in the sight of him until he was woken up by that stupid airhostess.

Mariam. Another one. No doubt Max stuck her on the list. Thank heaven that the rest of her team isn't here as well, or I might actually lose the will to live. Ozuma's a weird one, always talking about sacred this, and sacred that. It could drive you barmy! Frankly, I think it did. Dunga and Joseph are more than a little cuckoo, though thankfully, Mariam seems to have turned out all right, even if she likes to sharpen her tongue until it will draw blood. Seriously, that girl can insult you in so many ways when she's catty that I wonder why Max puts up with her.

Ah. Now we have come to the last person on the list. The one who has been standing in my way of asserting my gayness and striding into the outside world. Yup, you guessed it.

Mariah.

God knows how she got invited. I had nothing to do with it, that's for sure. It's probably some twisted joke from somebody. Unfortunately, Lee was unable to come. This is both a blessing and a hindrance, because while Lee seems to be a bit homophobic and edgy about these things, he is very good at distracting Mariah. Don't get me wrong, Mariah **can** be very nice and understanding when she feels like it, but unfortunately I don't think she'll take the news well. You see, I haven't plucked up the courage to tell her I'm gay yet. This is because it seems to have become universally accepted that Mariah and I will be together forever, something I definitely do not plan on doing.

Nonetheless, Mariah doesn't seem to have noticed this, and however much I try to wriggle out of her grip, the tighter she holds on. She can be very clingy, and I have a hard time trying to get away from her as it is. I mean, as a friend – fine. I could cope with that. But if I tell her I'm gay, I'm afraid she might just join Brooklyn over the edge of insanity. You see, Mariah is very well connected, and if she takes it as badly as I think she will, she could turn a lot of people against me. Aside from this, I've also got to worry about everybody else's reaction.

"Ray! Ray? Where are you? Lessons begin in fifteen minutes!"

Oh. Bugger. Hiro calls. The day's lessons have begun, and I now must shift myself in order to get all the rest of my gear on, pick up my board and get out there to face the music.

Yes, I have opted for the snowboard as my vehicle of choice. This is possibly because I was watching the Turin Olympics ages ago, and the boarders look so much cooler. The Canadians are really strange; they call snowboards trays, and skis sticks. Still, they're all really happy, if one of them hadn't been so nice and taken pity on me, I doubt I would ever have got my boots on. Thankfully, I'm wearing soft boots, that look like really big hiking boots. This means they're a bit more walking-friendly. Those poor sods in ski boots can hardly walk at all. Believe me, there is nothing as funny as seeing Raul take one step in his boots and fall over, a cartoony ball of flailing arms.

Of course, not everybody is quite that unskilled. Hiro has skied a couple of times before, so if we wipeout (lingo for fall-over-in-a-flurry-of-snow-possibly-breaking-some-bones) he'll be able to pick us back up again. Garland, of course can. His family can do practically every sport on the planet, so why not winter ones? And there's one other who can ride the bloody socks off the rest of us…

Kai, hailing from the land of ice and snow, can ski and snowboard better than the rest of us put together. Of course, since Kai doesn't do the bodily exertion thing unless he's in a gym, he's kinda serene on the slopes. This means we (meaning **I**) don't get to see those amazing tricks we all know he can do.

Thankfully, Canadians think that being warm and safe is way better than being hard and asking for death, so I can wear a helmet and not get called a wimp. Also, if Kai wears a helmet (which he does, a stylish black one with a red phoenix on the side) it _has_ to be cool. I can only be thankful that my jacket and salopetts (padded dungaree things that rustle something chronic when you walk) are light blue and not red, otherwise I'd look like some kind of zit on the white mountainside. I purposefully chose my helmet to match, because a metallic blue one goes much better than the one the shopkeeper tried to give me. I swear, the shade of fluorescent green it was painted in looked _just _like bogeys.

Of course, light blue offers much more camouflage, something that Mariah lacks in boatloads, since her ski ensemble is – you guessed it - bright pink. Indeed, the reason for such camouflage is Mariah herself, since whenever I try to put my plan into action, she turns up.

Which brings me to the subject of said plan. This is of utmost importance, since this may be one of the best chances of my entire life to put it into action. I have two weeks, until they reckon the snow will melt enough so that it will be un-boardable, to get Kai to acknowledge my existence, to ascertain whether he is gay or not, to tell him **I**am gay, and make him fall in love with me.

Got that?

Good, 'cause I won't explain it again. This is, as afore said, of utmost importance, and I cannot veer away from my objective. If I so much as drift away, pinch me so I fall back down to earth. Thankfully, I have already achieved stage 1 to some extent. Kai knows I exist, and if I'm not much mistaken, he prefers my company to the others. This is not saying much, granted, but it is a start. On to the next hurdle: is he gay or not? This is my objective, and if you choose to accept it, yours. Find out his sexual orientation, and if he says he's straight, I will lose the will to live and throw myself off the mountainside. Either that or I'll have to give in to Mariah and go back to my village to live my life in pink hell. The latter sounds worse.

But I will not give in to this foolish rambling! I am positive, and optimistic! Kai has never shown any interest in anybody in that way, so for all I know he may be bi. This is good enough for me, and I can harbour my feelings in hopeful splendour until the truth comes out.

"Ray? Come on, what the hell are you doing?"

Right, I'd better shift myself. Right, do I have everything? Gloves? Check. Helmet? Check. Walkie talkie (very important in case of lost people, especially me)? Check. Snowboard? Check. Everything seems to be in order; I can now stride out into the unknown prepared and ready.

-

Prepared and ready my arse.

Snowboarding is the weirdest and most incomprehensible form of transport in this sector of the galaxy. Seriously! You know all those big-shot boarders who look amazing, doing whatever they do? Well, they must have been BORN on a board to get that good, because the way I'm going, my gravestone should be finished next week. For every second I manage to stand up on this bloody thing, I spend another five in the snow. I would not be surprised if I were mistaken for a blueberry tomorrow, since my skin will never be the same colour ever again. Mind you, I'm not the only one.

I am sitting in base camp, the miniature village at the bottom of all the ski runs where the hotels are, inside the deliciously warm cafeteria, waiting for our instructor (a guy named Dean) to come back with all our hot chocolates. He's really nice, if a bit wacko, and he says a hot drink is our 'reward' for all our 'progress'. He's cool, and thankfully patient, though I could swear he's joined Brooklyn over the edge of insanity. Think surfer dude, replicate it seven times over and put it on snow.

There is one solace, however. Snowboarders and skiers are in separate schools, meaning I am separated from Mariah, and most of the other painfully irritating members of our little group. In my group, we have Miguel, Salima, Max and Mystel. The others are in the ski school, learning how to steer those flimsy little sticks of theirs. That is, aside from Hiro, Garland and Kai. They're so experienced that they don't need lessons. Well, maybe not especially Hiro, but Kai and Garland took the ski lifts to the peak first thing and haven't been seen since morning. And no, Kai isn't boarding _with_ Garland and attempting to be social. Garland is tackling the expert slopes in the western bowl on the other side of the mountain; Kai is hitting some unskied powder off-piste.

Oooh, a big mug of something chocolaty has been placed in front of me. I can submerge myself in warm fuzzy goodness while the others talk about something boring…goggles or something similarly trivial. Wait, what is this? It is not Dean the instructor who sits before me now, sipping a cup of what smells like coffee and staring at me over the rim! It's-

"Hello Ray."

I let the deep and sultry voice wash over me, gazing in (gormless) surprise at the wonder in front of me. Yes, **_Kai_** has blessed me with his presence, choosing to sit with me over anyone else. This is an event!

"Hi." Revel in my amazing vocabularical abilities! "Where've you been?" Is vocabularical a word? No matter, it is now!

"Around." But then again, my skills are nothing in comparison to the veritable godling in front of me.

"Have fun?" As soon as I say this, I cringe. I forget that Kai never seems to have _fun, _other than toying with our emotions on his very worst of days.

"Of sorts. You?"

Fabulous! An opportunity to talk freely and without interruption, and without a certain awkward silence to get in the way.

"Yeah, I did," I say, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. "Well, no. I lie. I could swear I could be mistaken for a baboon, my arse is so blue." Don't think you can hide your smirk behind that coffee cup, Kai. I can see you. "It's really tiring too – I'm exhausted and it's barely lunchtime. Thankfully, I seem to have almost mastered turning this morning. Oh, and do we have to get up so early **every day**?" I pose this question because I was woken this morning at the unearthly hour of 6:30, ready to be on the slopes an hour later. Neko-jins have many cattish qualities: being able to make our pupils slits, our eyes being that distinctive amber colour, our very sharp fangs (I warn you, biting one's tongue accidentally hurts sooooooooo much more with these gnashers), and insanely quick reflexes (when we're awake). Which brings me to the more embarrassing aspects of my heritage: the purring (one of the most humiliating things you can do in public. Once, Max gave me this big bear hug, and he was wearing a wonderfully fluffy jumper. I buried my face in it and **purred. **Uh huh. Got weird looks for weeks afterwards), the fact that we have strange affiliations with balls of wool (I had a lot of explaining to do after my team-mates found me lying on my back, batting at a ball of angora above my head), and the unconquerable urge to go and sleep in the sun (it's true, cats will sleep anywhere. I was once found on a piano, on a car bonnet, in the middle of the lawn, on the doorstep…). This said, I can (and do, when Kai lets me) sleep 20 hours straight. Before today, I don't think I can remember ever seeing the sunrise.

"Yes. The snow is best in the morning, when the sun doesn't have the chance to melt it."

"…" I can tell from his expression that there is a look of mingled horror, resignation and pleading on my face.

"And yes, I'll wake you up."

"…"

"And yes, I am aware that you will attempt to take my life for waking you at an ungodly hour. I will be prepared."

Prepared? In what sense? Should I be scared? Almost definitely. Kai has expended twenty-four of his one hundred word quota for the day on one sentence. He's planning something big.

"I don't know what I'll do after lunch though." I take another sip of my hot chocolate, pleading (and hinting incredibly heavily) with my eyes. "The lesson ends then, and I'm not entirely happy with my skills. I know it's best to stick together, but I don't feel like mingling with the other skiers." Or Mariah.

Unfortunately, Kai does not have a sense of hint, and has blissfully ignored my puppy-dog eyes. Time to take the plunge, as you might say.

"Soooooo, I was wondering if I could hang out with you today?"

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

"Okay."

Oh no!! What am I going to do now? I'll have to endure my companions, thus including Mariah, and I'm running out of ways to get away from her! I- Wait? Did he just say _Yes_?

"I can take you to the easy runs on the other side of the mountain."

This is…incredible! I can't believe it! But I have to! Otherwise it could all be a dream!

"Really?" Way to go Ray. **So** not desperate.

Kai merely sips his coffee, pulling out a map and studying it. This, I take it, is one of Kai's silences that speak louder than words. Let me fill you in.

Silence number one: Don't-talk-to-me-or-I'll-bite-your-head-off-I'm-doing-something-important. This one comes into play before matches, when he's focusing his Zen or whatever. Seriously, if you as much as ask what the time is, you'll receive _Glare _number one as well, but those come in later. When exhibiting this silence, he is usually holed up in a corner, looking like some kind of threatening shadow. Mind you, he looks like that most of the time.

Silence number two: Don't-talk-to-me-I'm-in-a-good-mood-I-don't-need-you-ruining-it. This is the silence that I positively LOVE. When like this, he's in a good mood – scratch that - a _very_ good mood, and some of my fondest memories have been sat on these foundations. This is because everything is silent, and I don't have to talk, and therefore humiliate myself. However, I also have the sweetest picture of him (no, he doesn't know about it, or else that good mood would have evaporated faster than nail-varnish remover in the sun. …Not that I've ever used nail-varnish remover…obviously…) when he was sitting in a window seat with his feet propped up against the wall, the sunlight streaming in, reading a book. It's _darling_, and it takes pride of place in my diary (yes, I keep a diary. No, it's not that sad). Now, I know what you're are thinking, and I tried. I managed to pinch the said book from his bookshelf whilst he was in the shower, but no go. The entire thing was written in Russian, and if there is a more complicated and less understandable language out there, I will eat my helmet. No indication whatsoever of plot. There wasn't even a picture on the front!

Silence number three: I-really-don't-care-so-quit-bothering-me-do-what-you-like-but-don't-make-too-much-of-a-mess. This is the one he is giving me now. This indicates a 'whatever' attitude, thus, I can do 'whatever' I like, and shall, provided that I don't eternally humiliate myself whilst doing so. However, since this is undeniably inevitable, I shall admit defeat.

"Hey! Ray-man! Come on, cool cat! We've gotta get going!"

This, unfortunately, is Dean the Irritating Instructor, come to save me from the clutches of my fairytale prince. Of course, if Kai's the prince, that means I'm the princess. That means I've got to wear a frilly pink dress and swoon. Note to self – rewrite fairytales to be more gay friendly. They should crossover all branches of society.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "I'm coming. Kai, I'll see you here at one, 'kay?"

"Whatever."

-

My goal is in sight. I stand here, at the top of a green run (that's easy), fresh from the drag lift, with the cafeteria a small shoebox shape below. This is my objective: to get all the way down there in less than ten minutes, without falling over, in order to meet Kai. Oh yeah, and to practise right-hand turns. They are so hard I swear. You've got to sort of lean over backwards **_towards_** the perilous drop down the mountainside to turn! It's just ASKING for Death to come and lop your head off with that great big scythe of his.

Anyway, can I have a countdown before I push off? No? Then, can you push me? No?!?!? Mean sods. I'll have to do it myself. …5…4…3…2…1…CONTACT. WE HAVE IGNITION.

Hey, this isn't so bad! Those tips Dean the Mean Machine gave me must work! He said something about not tilting my body, just my hips. I can almost _f-e-e-l_ Death hawking over my shoulder, waiting for me to fall. Anyways, now this stuff doesn't require my utmost attention, I can hereby tell you about the alarming news that I have just heard from Tyson, who was on a ski-lift above me and yelled it to me, much to the amusement of some French people standing right behind me. Ready? I advise you to brace yourself for this piece of information – the news of it, and those which it concerns could be detrimental to your health.

**_Tala and Bryan are coming and will arrive tomorrow._**

I know. Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water…

If you hadn't guessed already, just _one_ of them can (and do) reduce me to a stuttering puddle of primordial ooze. Not only that, but the two of them together can reap much more than two times as much damage. Maybe it's safer to tackle them separately.

Tala Ivanov is redheaded, blue-eyed, and has the longest eyelashes of any guy I know. I am convinced that he uses mascara, because I've only otherwise seen lashes like that on Mariah when she's trying to hit on me, flirt with me, trying to lure me into her lair…it's all the same thing really. Ahem, back to the task at hand. Tala also possesses some of the most violent mood swings in the world. He can go from snidely bearable to bitchy arch-nemesis in under 2.5 seconds. He can be so feminine sometimes, it's scary. I was once told that if two guys fight, they'll usually have a punch-up and then everything's right as rain. Girls are different. Girls hold grudges. No matter how many cat-fights they seem to go through, they still hate each others guts. And don't get me wrong; those things can be way violent. Some of that hair pulling and scratching looks more than a bit painful. Unfortunately, Tala is capable of inflicting much more pain than that. Being part cyborg, his muscles, eyesight, bones and reflexes are strengthened. Add that to all that training he had at Biovolt, and you've got more than one tough cookie in your happy meal. Thankfully, in his better moods, he usually does a 'Kai' and avoids bodily exertion, preferring to stick to verbal degradation. His partner in crime is better in some ways, but much, much worse in others.

Bryan Kusnetsov is six foot two, has lilac hair _and_ lilac eyes, and is a one man massacring machine. Thanks to all that _lovely_ training at Biovolt, he is trained in **_thirty-two_** methods of armed combat, alongside another eleven unarmed. I got these figures off Kai when he was telling me to stay away from Bryan. Now you see there is a good reason. The only slightly comforting things are that he is unfamiliar with the division of Jujitsu that I was taught, and he prefers his guns and knives, meaning he is far from expert at martial arts and merely insanely good. Half of the time, however, Bryan does not need this. He carries a distinct air of juvenile delinquent turned evil maniac, and people give him a wide berth for it. Believe me when I say this: you can almost _taste_ it when Bryan walks into a room. Watch for that slightly metallic aroma of pure malice. Either that or look at the people and plants around you – both will wither under his gaze.

Definitely not to be messed with, believe me. Put together, the gruesome twosome are capable of more destruction than an entire herd of elephants that have decided that you have stolen their baby.

Hey! Wait! I'm at the bottom! It's a MIRACLE!!! No, seriously, it is. Especially in under fifteen minutes. Aaaannnnndddd………………there he is! Waiting for me! Not anyone else, just ME!

Kai is leaning casually against the wall of the cafeteria with his eyes closed (naturally), and I already know he knows that I know that he knows I'm here. What I left out was that he already knows all of that because he's scarily psychic and is connected to fate and therefore can CONTROL THE FUTURE!

…Ahem…sorry. Got a bit high there on Kai vibes. Must refrain from doing so again in public.

"Kai!" I call, and he opens those dreamy violet eyes and fixes them on me.

"Ready?"

"You bet!" Good God, I sound like Max – all cheery fluffy bunny.

Fluffy bunny aside, this could be the greatest opportunity in the history of my life… oooorrrrrr it could be my biggest failure and humiliation. Let's wait and see, shall we?

--

Tune in next time for **IndyMethodDoubleFlipTwistRoll – wipeout…** for more fun. Will Ray humiliate himself? Can Kai control the future? All will be revealed in the next installment!

You know I love you – review? Please?

I am the Hodgeheg


	2. I am in serious need of a bubble bath

Chapter 2 – Day 1 (the twilight hours). I am in serious need of a bubble bath.

-

Hello again. Ray here. Ray wishing he wasn't here, more like. You know last time, I said it could be the greatest opportunity of my life, or the most humiliating experience ever to grace this earth? Well, it's definitely leaning towards the latter.

Let me get you up to speed. I am sitting here, hours after the _incident_, wrapped up in front of the fire contemplating whether I should have a bath or not before dinner. Kai is not here, praise the lord, instead he's out doing important stuff that I know absolutely nothing about.

The trouble started as soon as we set off. Well, actually, ten minutes after we set off. The lift to the peak was fine, until……well, you'll see.

I was, of course, ogling Kai out of the corner of my eye (who wouldn't?) and it was bloody freezing up there! Kai must be some kind of hyper-insulated polar bear in disguise or something, because I was wrapped up in every piece of clothing I could find _**and** _my fingers were coming off from the cold, whereas he was just sitting there serenely! Cool as a cucumber. Or an Arctic fox. Anyways, what I didn't know was that my frozen sausage-like fingers were to be my downfall.

About twenty yards from the get-off point, there was a sign on the pylon that said 'SKI TIPS UP', so I and Kai obediently lifted up the leading end of our boards. Before we threw ourselves off the swinging chair of doom, Kai lifted the bar keeping us _inside_ the swinging chair of doom and told me to shuffle forwards in my seat in order to jump off. Unfortunately, during the said shuffle, I tried to push myself forward using my hand on the side rail. The hand with the frozen fingers.

I slipped, pitched down towards heinous drop, my board's front end dropped down, and the last thing I saw was a flurry of white and black as I tripped up on the off-loading ramp, sending me head first into a realm of hurt, humiliation and broken bones.

I know. Total worst nightmare. Fortunately (or unfortunately, whichever way you look at it), something stopped this perilous trip into the netherworld. Have you guessed it yet? Let me give you a clue – snow is usually white, not black.

The next thing I knew, I was flipped roughly upside-down, away from the sea of white and feeling a sensation of travel. After some passage of time - I'm not sure how long since I was currently watching my life flash before my eyes. Well, not my entire life, it seems only the horrifyingly terrible bits are worth watching – I was unceremoniously dumped back onto the snow, adding another bruise to my growing collection. And, as I gazed dizzily upwards, who do you think I saw?

Yup. Kai took it upon himself to save me.

Now, usually I would be jumping around in joy when this happens, but you forget one tiny little detail. Kai only had to save me because I was such a clumsy idiot in the first place. Now he will forever know me as 'the neko-jin that can't get off ski-lifts to save his life (literally)'.

I had never been on a proper chair-lift before! All the easy slopes at the bottom were accessed by drag lifts (they're just as dangerous themselves – if a T-bar lift snags you underneath your jacket as you get off, you'll be dragged, helpless, along the ground until the tension gets so great that it pings back. Poor, poor Mystel). Getting on the chair-lift was easy enough – look behind you as it swings round and sit down. Easy as pie. Mmm, pie…anyway!

I say save, but apparently it was as far from that knight-in-shining-armour image that you're having as we are from the sun. Kai, if am not mistaken, saw the makings of my fall, grabbed me by the waist, slung me over his shoulder like I was a roll of carpet or something, and somehow managed to smoothly ride off the lift. If that does not constitute superhuman powers, then I don't know what does. Of course, if this were a silly romantic story (_A/N: The irony!_), then he would have swept me up bridal style, carving down the slope, gazing into my eyes before – but lets not get into that. The plan is nowhere near that stage yet.

The rest of the trip was comparatively uneventful. Kai made me ride in front whilst he followed. He said that way he'd be able to pick me up when I fell. And I did fall. Some maniac skier cut across my path whilst I was concentrating on turning (those damn right-hand turns!) and I couldn't correct my balance, and – yes – I wiped out. Mind you, this time he didn't pick me up. He just stood there whilst I sorted out limb from board.

This bowl was much quieter, more space to manoeuvre (Apart from that wretched skier! Grr!) and far fewer familiar faces (Hey! Alliteration!). The only one I saw that was vaguely recognisable was Garland, who was heading for an expert slope somewhere down the way. The only reason I felt any sign of recognition at all was that his hair was flying out like some sort of flag. Oh. I've just realised that I must look like that. Oh well. What he must have thought at the sight of Kai gliding serenely down a beginner's slope behind the struggling me I don't know.

The chair-lift back to the peak was also better. Kai talked me through it and I didn't fall off, surprise surprise. He also advised me that if my hands were cold, I should get some mittens. So here I am with a brand new pair of snazzy black mittens. Saying that, can mittens _ever_ be snazzy?

Right, bubble bath time. Lavender or jasmine?

-

I feel so much better now. If you want to know (which you probably don't, but I'll tell you anyway), I settled on jasmine. It's so much more expensive, but it smells sooooooooooo nice it's unbelievable. Definitely the better choice when you feel like the earth should open up and swallow you.

Thankfully, things are looking better. I swear, bubble baths have healing properties. AND I am very pleased that I remembered my submarine. A boy cannot have a bubble bath without some shred of masculinity to hold on to. Thus, tucked away in the dark recesses of my bag, there was a miniature replica of a Russian nuclear submarine. A submarine that went on a perilous mission where no sub has gone before.

Unfortunately, communications were down halfway through the mission, and the craft was almost lost in the great swathe of bubbles that impeded it's path on all sides. Thankfully, the crew were resourceful enough to send out a distress signal that was picked up by an ally and everything was right as rain again. Substantial damage was sustained, but nothing a tube of glue can't fix.

Kai reappeared at dinner, but thankfully said nothing. Thus why I feel slightly better – Kai being Kai, he just pretended it didn't happen. You got that? **It didn't happen!** Afterwards, he propped himself up at the kitchen table, reading another bloody Russian book (it had an ace of hearts on the front?) and I don't think he's moved since, apart from getting another mug of something steaming.

Dinner itself was an interesting experience. There's really no set time – you just turn up at the cafeteria whenever. I tell you – chilli has never tasted so good as when you've had to ski all the way down a mountain to get it. Their hot chocolate is to die for as well. It's kinda funny, no one comes to dinner at the same time. I turned up with Mystel and Miguel at about half seven, and it was fairly quiet, but at six it was absolutely heaving. This may have something to do with the fact that everyone here seems to go to bed at eight. I don't blame them, skiing is tiring work, but I still think eight is a bit much. That's why everyone else turned in an hour ago, whilst I'm still here, talking to you. Hmm, nine o'clock. Is that late enough in order to get some sleep while at the same time not seeming wimpy? Hell yeah!

I'll see you lot later. I've got to catch me some z's.

-

I wake to the sound of genes calling my name. The cat portion of my mind-set seems to still be partially nocturnal in some kind of primeval way, and thus my stomach is **crying out **for sustenance. Usually, it would be able to hold out until I break my fast in the morning, but for some reason the cravings overpowered sleep. I need milk. **Now.**

I tiptoe downstairs, as quiet as I can (which is very quiet after all – not much can hear a neko-jin if they want to be silent), into the living room. I can't hear a thing. Up here in the mountains, there are no motorways to give that irritating background hum. Not that I mind, that buzzing mucks up my hearing something chronic, but it does make everything that bit creepier. I stumble towards the kitchen (my night vision is a little rusty – haven't been eating those carrots), tripping over the coffee table on my way. Wait a minute? What's that? There's a light coming from under the kitchen door! As I push open the door, I am hit by the realisation that if it's a burglar, then I am walking into the room completely unprepared. That realisation is squashed promptly as I decide that I can just scream for help from Kai and he can come and rescue me from upstairs. Just a second…

Speak of the Devil and He appears. Kai is sitting as the kitchen table, in the same chair as he was before, reading the same book as he was before, but considerably further on.

"Kai?!?!?!" I glance up at the clock on the worktop. "What on earth are you doing here for? Haven't you been to bed yet? It's three a.m!"

He looks at me unconcernedly. "I wasn't tired," he replies, eyes back on the book.

Just to be sure, I inspect his mug to see if it holds coffee. That would explain how he's sitting here bright eyed and bushy tailed as if it's ten o'clock in the morning, but no. His mug holds some violently aromatic kind of herbal tea, peppermint if I'm not mistaken, which is sadly caffeine free. Therefore…

Let this be known to all ye who so forth are witness. I have come to the conclusion that Kai, with his supernatural abilities and lack of need of sleep, is undoubtedly a whole different kind of creature to humans. I hereby declare that Kai Hiwatari is a vampire, and should be treated with justifiable caution.

Throwing the said caution to the four winds, as I get myself a glass of milk, I ask, "What'cha reading?"

"_Cards_ by Ardeth Domitrov."

"Is it good? What's it about?"

"Politics."

Figures. Has to be about one of THE most boring subjects on the face of the earth if written wrongly. True, 1984 kept me riveted one rainy day when I had the 'flu and that was about politics, but everything else I can't stand. Give me a good adventure any day. Or a sappy romance novel – very good for reading in the bath. You know I said earlier that communications with my submarine were lost? Well, that's because I dropped my copy of _Pride and Prejudice _on top of it. Miguel gave me such a weird look when he turned up to go down to dinner with me, to find I was drying it off with a hair dryer. Now the pages have gone all wrinkly, and the picture on the front is a bit blurry. Seriously! Elizabeth and Darcy are sooooooo perfect it's untrue! They just don't know it!

Anyway, time to do that mother-hen thing that always appears after matches.

"Kai, come on, it's late. You should really get some sleep."

The good thing about this approach is that my voice doesn't shake and I know exactly what to say. Needless to say, this is something that doesn't happen very often. He pins me with his amethyst gaze, and I desperately fight the urge to melt into a puddle of blackcurrant jelly. Why blackcurrant? It's the best jelly flavour EVER!

"Please?" I appeal to his soft side (if it exists) with a small voice as I play with my hair.

"All right."

In the words immortalised by the Wicked Witch of the West – **I'M MELTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** Please mop me up, there's a tea towel in that drawer. On your left. No, your OTHER left!

I tramp back to bed whilst Kai makes a last trip to the loo. I have plans to make sure he comes up, but I fall asleep before he reaches the top of the stairs.

-

I furiously scoop at the custard lake with my wooden spoon as the Dolly-mixture dinosaur wades in after me. My giant mixing bowl wobbles terrifyingly as I lean too far over one side but I keep on paddling. If I can just stay away from it long enough, then those pink clouds on the horizon will rain lemonade down on that hideous monster, hopefully melting the icing sugar holding it together.

But no! Just as the frisky tom-cat of fate faces the scalpel of destiny, and the priceless natural woodland of time meets the motorway extension of eternity, I am snagged by the enormous jaws of the creature. I scream as its candy cane fangs pierce my skin and inject sweeter than sweet golden syrup into my bloodstream.

I wake, cold and terrified. I can still smell that scent that only pear drops smell like. I think I can still feel the jelly tots clogging my throat. Doing the seemingly rational thing, filled with memories of childhood nightmares, I jump in a single bound into the bed next to mine. I'm under the covers in record time, clinging with a death-grip onto the occupant's waist.

"_What in God's name? **Ray?!?!?**_"

Oops.

Kai pries me off himself – lord knows how without a crowbar – and sits up, bringing me with him.

"What the hell was that, Ray? What happened?"

I look down, despite the fact that he can't see me in the pitch dark.

"I had a nightmare…" God, I sound so pathetic. Like a beetle that's been trodden on. The eyes roll again. You may not be able to see me Kai, but I can definitely see you.

"_Bloody Hell" _he mutters under his breath. I can hear you too, Kai. "Sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

Another beetle is squashed under a camper's hiking boots. "Can I stay with you?"

A long silence before: "Hn. Fine. Whatever."

Hooray!!!! Now, I know I should be jumping up and down in joy because the plan may be getting somewhere, but no. I am resisting jumping up and down in joy because that Dolly-mixture dinosaur could come back at any second, and I'll have Kai to protect me if it does. I'll see you peeps tomorrow, if I'm still alive. What in here would do as a weapon? The lamp! I'll just keep it here by the bed. Toodles!

--

I swear, this story is so fun to write – when I wrote the bit about Kai being a hyper-insulated polar bear I was in STITCHES. Literally, my family thought I'd finally lost my last marble.

Oh, and that nightmare that Ray has, it's one of mine. It's absolutely terrifying. Once you've seen your own flesh ripped open with some of your favourite sweeties, it tends to change your opinion of liquorice allsorts.

**Next: **Tala and Bryan arrive (YAY!!!!!!!! Just what we've all been waiting for!), big snowball fight with many casualties, hair incident no. 1, and experimentations with Prozac.

I love all my reviewers. (hint hint)

I am the Hodgeheg (bow down and worship me for I am here)


	3. And the gates of Hell shall open

Sorry about the wait, little peeps, but I was sitting in a well of depression a while ago and it took a twenty-two mile hike to knock it out of me. My reason for depression? I discovered that everything my psychologist told me was true.

-

Chapter 3 – And the gates of Hell shall open and henceforth **_They _**will ride out…

-

I dredge the last memories of wakefulness from the depths of my disorganised mind, cracking open one eye in response to the light shaking of my arm. I am mildly disorientated, before I realise that it is morning.

I then remember how much I bloody well **_hate_** mornings, especially here, where I have to get up every day at half six just to be on time for my lesson.

Then I remember why today is going to be different.

I remember that, in just a few short hours, all hell will descend upon the mountain.

I remember that Tala and Bryan are coming.

As every sensible being who has realised that the gruesome twosome will appear imminently should, I leap out of bed, grab my weapon of choice mid-cartwheel (the lamp) and assume a defensive position in the corner. It is only after I have finished sweeping the room for any immediate threat that I see Kai.

He looks at me with an expression that says, very clearly, that although my actions are far from normal, he is far from surprised by them. I then remember the events of last night.

I remember the dinosaur.

"Good Morning, Ray."

"'Morning. Dunno about good, though."

I set down the lamp and trudge downstairs in search of food. I don't expect Kai to follow me – he's usually been up for hours by the time I even formulate a plan about _thinking_ of waking up – but today he decides to skip his morning yoga, or whatever it is he does, in favour of being cursed by my presence. Do I feel loved? Ahhhhh, if only, if only.

My choice of breakfast this morning? That depends on what's lurking the cupboards, or on what state I'm in when I get up. If I'm on a misguided diet (I should never have let Mathilda talk me into it) then it's fruit and…_shudder_…**_muesli_**. Not cool. I have seen taster things residing in brown puddles – it looks uncannily similar to what one would feed a rabbit and although I am related to a member of the animal family, it is certainly not rabbits.

If I'm late getting up, the choice of the day is toast. Thus I can be seen many a Monday morning, running along the street in the pouring rain, desperately trying to juggle my umbrella, bag and two slices of buttered toast. Sometimes it's jam if I can be bothered and need the sugar. Note to self – never attempt to juggle jammy toast whilst running. Outcome irremovable stain on white shirt.

If I am feeling depressed, or if it's very cold, the choice of the morning is porridge. This can be ingested with either jam, golden syrup or treacle. However, this item cannot be eaten in the presence of Max, and the topping jars MUST go back in the cupboard behind the white wine vinegar, otherwise he'll eat them straight from the tin and get very sticky in the process. This is of particular importance, as last time it happened, I had to spend three hours trying to get the treacle stain out of the carpet. This was, of course, before Hilary was part of our little group. She would no doubt jump on the chance to clean and scold, not necessarily in that order. However, the little Miss Madam, along with Kenny, has relatives staying and therefore declined when offered the chance of a skiing holiday.

Anyway, back to the subject that we were on before that conversation train derailed: what to have for my brekkie? I think I spied some crunchie nut cornflakes in the cupboard yesterday that I could have, but first I must concentrate on finding a teabag to put in my mug. Kai is boiling the kettle for what must be his third cup of coffee this morning. He'll fill up my mug with water if it's ready, but by no means will he be gracious and find a mug and pop a teabag in it. That would require effort.

I desperately hunt for a mug in the cupboard, though in my haste I pick the one with the Teletubbies on it, and score a superhuman slam-dunk with the teabag moments before Kai pours the water. On second thought, I think I'll have some hot cross buns. That way I can brush my hair whilst they toast. Seriously, you have no idea how hard it is to eat cereal (especially Lucky Charms) and brush your hair at the same time. It's almost as hard as eating Lucky Charms and simultaneously keeping Max away from them.

After discovering my hairbrush in my pocket (I carry it with me everywhere), I unravel my binding, discard the headband, and set loose the wild animal that is my hair into the outside world. I then proceed to tame the feral beast, brushing it to a static. After a few moments, I feel a pair of eyes on me, and look up.

Kai is gazing at me over the rim of his coffee cup, watching me like a hawk as I drag the brush through my hair. I see the tiniest of frowns as I self-consciously halt my grooming ritual.

"What?" I (daringly) ask.

"I just-" he stops, picking his words more carefully. "It's so…" Another pause. This is unheard of! Kai not knowing what to say?! "…Long…"

He's right, of course. My hair has grown so much recently that, when loose, it hangs just a few scant inches from the floor. It's a right pig to take care of though, and some days I just can't be stuffed with it. Those days are usually the ones that I spend in front of the Telly box, watching a sappy film in my pyjamas. This also involves a super-sized bowl of popcorn and an even bigger box of tissues. Last time I did this, it was after some big tournament and my hair looked more like a mane than anything else. I watched 'You've got Mail' _and_ 'Sleepless in Seattle' consecutively and had to send Max out for more tissues halfway through the latter. Anyway, I'm getting a bit off track here. Why on earth does the sight of my hair render Kai incapable of human speech?

Okay, so help me, I'm naïve. And simple. I need assistance with these things.

Ooh! My hot cross buns are done!

I've also got a really short attention span, if you hadn't guessed already.

And I'm late! Shit, I've gotta run!

-

You will not believe what happened today! I swear, this is the last time I _ever _wear my hair down again in public.

I was innocently riding down a nice, easy slope, thinking of which run I should take from the ski lift, when a maniac boarder cannoned into me from a snow-cat track, sending me flying into the snow face first.

As you can imagine, I was but a little bit disorientated by this colossus of a wipeout, and was a bit wacked out to say the least. But, as they are wont to do, a very lovely (and very handsome, but nowhere near as hot as Kai) Canadian came to see if I was all right.

He asked me if I was okay, and then told me about how bad the fall was. "I saw you somersault halfway up the slope, that boarder sure was going fast. Just stay a minute while I check what that idiot was doing, he could have killed you."

It was then that I realised that he was another instructor (they all wear red and yellow ski suits) and that it was his job to stop people behaving so recklessly. Partway through his conversation with the bastard that knocked me over, I sorted out up from down and listened in to what they were saying. The snowboarder's argument went something like this:

"I swear, she just came outta nowhere! I mean, sure, I was goin' fast but I checked before the exit and the way was clear! And alluva sudden, I got this chick with her head in the clouds wandering into my path! It was just plain stupid man!"

Now, the person who guesses what got me fired up the most about that little speech first gets a prize.

Yup. That misogynistic nitwit thought I was a girl.

So, of course I leapt up and decided to tell him exactly what I thought of him in no uncertain terms, asking him why the hell he thought I was suddenly feminine. And do you know what he said?

Uh huh. The hair.

I say that I'm really pissed off about it, but I've kinda cooled down now. It really comes down to the fact that I actually can't be stuffed sometimes to go through all that hassle that is braiding it. Thus why I am sitting in the deserted commonroom, waiting to take Max to dinner, with an unsettling presence that I know is Bryan behind me.

How, I hear you ask, can I tell that Bryan is in the room? Simple. Those of a more sensitive disposition have either left the building or hidden under their beds, and there's that smell in the air. No, not _that_ smell, more like the scent of cold steel on a moonless night.

Ah! Lo and behold, the psychic psychotic has holed himself up in the corner furthest from the door, made even more intimidating than usual by the lamp's enlargement of his shadow on the wall behind him.

I hope Max turns up soon. Staying within Bryan's personal space for more than two minutes can cause grievous bodily harm, and that's when he's in a good mood. At his worst, you'll be picking out which poem should go on your gravestone and who should inherit your CD collection. Bryan's personal space occupies most of whatever room he's in. if you're in a ballroom, you should be okay, provided you stay at least ten metres away and remember there's safety in numbers. If you're in a broom-cupboard then you should get out of there quick because no sensible being would want to be in a small, dark space with a homicidal maniac.

On second thoughts, maybe I'll just get out of here now. Max is independent enough, and Bryan's giving me that look. You know, the one that a cat gives a mouse before eating it.

As would anyone with two brain cells to knock together, I scarper from the room, finding shelter in the smaller common room across the hall. This one is similarly deserted, but by reflex I hide behind the door as I check the corners for the other half of the gruesome twosome. Satisfied that I'm the only one hiding in here, I am about to leave my hiding place when I hear voices. Just one voice, actually, and in hushed, secretive tones at that. Using my neko-jin abilities to slink silently across to the partially open window, I peer out of it.

Miguel is standing on the balcony to the left of this window with his mobile phone pressed to his ear. He keeps glancing around shiftily, and I have to duck quickly to avoid him seeing me. Something's going on here, and that little voice in my head is telling me that I **must** listen in, no matter what the cost. And we all know how compelling those little voices are. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!!!

"Uh huh…Yeah, sure…Claude! You shouldn't say things like that!"

Ah, so he's talking to Claude. You know, the tall lanky one in Barthez Battalion. Flew like an angel until Rick clipped his wings in New York. Got a load of flak from it too, but that's another story.

"Yeah, I know no one else can hear you, but I'm still paranoid…In spite of my paranoia? Jeez, you've gotta be in deep…Yeah, me too…"

Is he seriously talking to Claude? Or is that some kind of codename? The last time I heard someone talk like that was when Max called Mariam last week. Wait a sec…

"And you're keeping up with training? I don't want you getting hurt like last time…Yeah well, **_I_** think it's an impressive scar. Of course I'm the only one who ever sees it…"

Whoa, hold up. Is it just me, or did he say that in a waaay too seductive voice for a casual chat with a team-mate?

"The look on Mathilda's face was priceless! I swear, her face went the exact same shade of red as your pyjamas…"

Wait! Stop! Slow down! How the hell does Miguel know the exact colour of Claude's pyjamas?

"Hey, listen, I've gotta…Yeah, I've got a lesson…Uh huh, love you too…"

Stop. Rewind. Play. Did I just hear what I thought I heard, or am I dreaming? Miguel and Claude? Never thought I'd see that. Mind you, it would explain a lot of things, like why I caught him moping around after Claude got injured. Hmm, it appears I am not the only gay guy floating around. Forgive me if I stroke my proverbial beard.

"Ray? You in here? Oops, sorry Bryan. Didn't see ya there."

I'd better disappear off to dinner with Max before we both incur Bryan's wrath even further. Shovelling tomato soup will also give me time to mull over this new revelation. Doesn't leave much room for proverbial beard stroking, though.

-

Dinner is over and I'm back in the communal living room. Bloody bored, I might add. Or at least I was…

I'm reading this really interesting book, by the way. It's like a rewrite of loads of old fairytales, making them more modern. Unfortunately, they're not so modern as to include homosexuality. Yes, I was serious about rewriting those fairytales – you have no idea how boring it gets in the evening here. After it's dark, no more skiing, and it's not as if there's a fantastic nightlife out here. The nearest mining/forestry town is ten miles away and the most exciting thing there is when the milk float comes around in the morning.

Anyway, I've already got somewhere. I've almost finished my version of Rapunzel, that is scarily like a parody of me and Kai, except that he's a lot more talkative and my already long hair is even longer. And no, I know what you're thinking, I don't wear a frilly pink dress. I think I have enough dignity to-

Oh my god.

Is that…**_Tala?_**

He is wearing orange pyjamas, fluffy slippers, a fuzzy blue dressing gown and a look of utter dippiness that you would usually find on Max. He looks like he's trippin', he's grinning like he's on a sugar high, and he's just seen me.

This is bad.

"RAY!"

Really bad.

"I've been looking all over for you! Why the hell are you skulking over here? I love your hair, by the way. It looks so prettiful when it's down!"

I think the pixies have set up residence in his mind and kicked the old Tala out, because there's no way in hell nor heaven that the Tala Ivanov **_I_** know would say the word _prettiful._

"Uh," I stammer, unsure of what to do. "Thanks, I guess."

He's off again. "Omigod Ray, you so totally don't wear the right colours for your skin! That yellow edging on your tunic makes your face all pasty and wan-" Thanks a bunch Tala "-but the white really suits you. It brightens up your whole complexion. **I KNOW!**"

What? What? Tell me! I hate being left out of the loop!

He leaps out of his seat and rushes back up the stairs, leaving me poleaxed in my armchair. I am suddenly filled with the urge to run very, very fast in the opposite direction and never come back, but he returns too soon for me to implicate this action. He's carrying something very odd – it's like a sort of box thing with a handle on the top. I'm sure I've seen something like it before…

He places it down on the floor with a sacred reverence I've only ever seen once before, and that's Tyson with a double-chocolate-fudge sundae.

Oh god. I've just realised what the box is and where I've seen it before. Mariah has a shocking pink one on her bedside cabinet, and I am mentally scarred from what came out of it, and what she proceeded to do with the contents.

**_It's a make-up box._**

I watch in horror as he presses a little button on the top and the whole thing opens out like James Bond's briefcase full of weapons, though terribly horrific and destroying in a whole different way.

"Omigod, this colour is, like, so totally YOU!"

Dear Christ, save me. If you do, I will believe, for he is waving a small bottle of electric blue god-knows-what and I am in serious need of a miracle. KAI!!!!!!!!

My saviour has just appeared around the corner – just in the nick of time, I might add – COME SAVE ME KAI!!!!!!!!!! I NEED YOU!!!!!!!!

He merely stands there in confusion as Tala whips off my sock, stuffs cotton wool between my toes and proceeds to paint my toenails in a lurid blue.

"You should so wear blue more often Ray, it really suits you – but it's not as good as the white," he's still jabbering on. "The white makes you look so much like an angel, it's untrue. I so wish I had a complexion like yours, I'm so jealo – **KAI!"**

Kai automatically takes a step back as Tala notices him, looking to me in hopeless terror, a look I am not accustomed to coming from him and one I definitely don't like.

"Wanna come join in Kai?" Tala asks with enough sweetness to crystallise Bryan. "I have, like, the _perfect _colour for you."

Kai gives up on dignity entirely, turning and almost running away from the violet bottle being waved before him.

"Wonder what's wrong with him," Tala pouts. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. When I'm done here I can straighten your hair!"

--

Aaaaannnnnddd, I think that will do for now. I do so love to torture you, but Prozac Tala was just too precious to miss out.

I love all of my reviewers (hint hint)


	4. Rapunzel, Rapunzel

Note: when I say 'chips', I mean strips of potato deep fried in oil. To all those of an odd religious sect that think chips are crispy things that come in crinkly packets, I mean FRENCH FRIES. You know, the kind you smother in salt, vinegar or ketchup. Or all three. Yum yum.

--

Chapter 4 – Day 2 (the twilight hours) - Rapunzel, Rapunzel

--

Now you may think, if you didn't know better, that my brainspace would be entirely taken over by reading Rapunzel, but no. As it is, there are plenty free brain cells for me to recite this classic fairytale and talk to you at the same time.

Actually, I know you're really wondering why I am reading Rapunzel whilst sitting in bed with Tala.

Yep, you did hear that right.

You see, it appears that Tala has turned into a hyperactive four year-old. No, wait, worse: a hyperactive four year-old mixed with a teenage girl. Thus explaining why I look like this. True to his word, Tala did straighten my hair, but it was during his braiding of said hair that he decided that his bedtime story was going to be Rapunzel. Guess who he chose to read it to him?

"And the witch called up the tower, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!'"

On the other hand, whilst this is partially the most humiliating torture I have ever had to go through, it's worth it just to see this different side to Tala. You should have seen the way his little face lit up when I said I'd read him a bedtime story. He's a little sweetie, really. Entirely because he is NOTHING like the Tala that we see everyday – the get-out-of-my-way-or-I-won't-hit-you-I'll-do-something-worse Tala that carves down the slope and buries everyone around him with his spray.

Really, it was Kai he wanted to read to him, but when he flatly refused (as you can imagine), I just could not help melting at the look of heartbroken disappointment that washed across Tala's face. So, weak as I am, I gave in.

Thus why I am sitting in bed with Tala (always a conversation starter) reading a bedtime story I haven't heard in years. How he got hold of a book of fairytales, I don't know. Maybe he raided Max's bag.

Anyway, more interestingly (as riveting as me in bed with Tala might be, you perverts), I overheard – OK, I confess my sins, I had my ear pressed to the door – a conversation between Kai and Bryan but an hour ago. It went something like this:

"Bryan, something in Russian, something else Tala something fucking freak."

Can you guess how much I was able to understand? At this point I thought that Kai had just called Tala a fucking freak, and was anticipating a full bitch-fight when he returned to normality, but you will henceforth see that this assumption was incorrect.

"It's not my fault, angry snarling in some Baltic language."

I know! Kai had Bryan on the run! You could almost hear him back-pedalling, this should be put in the history books for years to come.

"Say that again, Bryan. For a minute I thought you said you fed him illegal drugs."

The plot thickens…

"More Russian snarling, even you agree he's been even bitchier than usual."

Really? I hadn't noticed. Because, this lunchtime, I had my first encounter with the bitchiest boy in the world. Happy it was not.

I shall hereby re-enact it for your entertainment: Ray goes and gets lunch. Ray sits down at empty table. Is shortly joined by the hell-creature himself. Hell-creature makes dangerously normal conversation and calls Ray 'sweetie' at least four times. Hell-creature proceeds to steal most of Ray's chips and nicks his favourite banana pudding, before pronouncing it 'foul' and throwing it in the bin. Hell-creature and the barely sane Ray are joined by Hell-creature's even more hellish friend. Hellish Friend snatches Ray's cookie and talks to Hell-creature, mentions of Ray's name loud and clear. When Hell-creature and Hellish Friend finish eating all edible things on Ray's tray, they clear out, Hell creature ruffling Ray's hair in an ominously friendly gesture and claiming that Ray is the prettiest girl he had ever met as he leaves.

Fun, fun.

However, Bryan was talking about Tala being bitchy to everyone, whereas at my encounter today, they were most certainly working together. Good God, there's a scary thought – tag team infuriation and bitching.

Anywho, after another five minutes of pressing my ear to the door, I found that Bryan is just as dangerous and well-connected as we all fear him to be. It appears that he managed to get hold of a prototype sedative, but the side affects are not known. Thus why Tala is (in effect) trippin', trapped in a four year-old's view of life, the universe and everything. It all gets a bit technical, but he said something about when a certain hormone spikes, he'll go a bit weird. This means that there may be unexpected fluctuations in mood until the drug has left his system. This could take from a couple of days to a month.

Thankfully, we are already used to Tala having violent mood swings, although we never have experienced one that involves him desperately wanting to paint our toenails.

"And Rapunzel and her prince lived happily ever after. The end. Did you enjoy that, Tala?"

Aww!! He's fallen asleep, bless him. I'll just ease me way out of the bed, so as not to wake him…

Wait, crap. He's got some kind of death grip on my hair. He won't let go! What is his hand, a vice or something? Rapunzel, Rapunzel, LET GO OF MY HAIR!!!!!!!

But salvation beckons! My walkie talkie is in my jacket pocket, if I can just reach over and get it…c'mon Ray, REACH FOR THE STARS! …Ahem, sorry. I couldn't resist.

Got it! Please may the person my set is tuned to have their walkie talkie on them.

"Hello? Anyone there? I'm in dire need of help, someone pick up."

All this is said in very hushed tones so that I don't wake the sleeping angel/demon (delete where applicable) beside me, so I very much doubt that whoever is on the other end can hear me through their ski jacket. But, any neko-jin can hope. Please please please please please please please please please please-

"_What have you done now, Ray?"_

Holy shit, it's Kai. Why does he have to be present every single time I mess up? I think I'm cursed. Almost definitely so, since I nearly had a heart attack when I heard his voice. Which arm is it that hurts? The right or the left?

It suddenly occurs to me that I must answer. "Um, nothing." Real smooth. "But would you happen to know how to extricate one's hair from a gorilla with PMS?"

"_I'm not sure Tala would appreciate being called that."_ I can tell he's got a smirk as big as Australia on his face_. "Wait there."_

"Yeah, like I have a choice."

I'm sure I hear a chuckle on the other end of the line.

--

Yes, I know it's really short, but I figured it was better than nothing. Plus, this way I can start how I meant it, and do a chapter for each day. This half-day-per-chapter thing just isn't working out.

I love all my reviewers.

The Hodgeheg


	5. The name’s Delilah…

**Chapter 5** – Day 3 - The Name's Delilah…

-

There are loads of things that I love about the world. Granted, there are many more that I hate, Hell-Creature and Hellish Friend included, but there are all these little things that I absolutely couldn't live without.

1. Kai. I know it, you know it, he, sadly, does not. But this will, as we all know, be rectified in a week or two. It's like destiny, or something. Well, maybe not destiny. I don't know, maybe it's Fate or even God. Yeah, I think Kai might believe in a God, but I'm never quite sure. He's never spoken about the subject, but then again, Kai doesn't tend to speak much anyway.

2. Blossom. Corny I know, but I always love watching the blossom fall in the spring. That's one big reason why I like Japan so much, because there are cherry trees EVERYWHERE and they have whole festivals and things to celebrate how beautiful they look. Seriously, everybody knows you can't get Ray to train in the spring because he'll go off on some freakish blossom watching trip. Maybe it's a fetish or something. Too much of a good thing and all that.

3. Chocolate. Come on, who doesn't like chocolate? Mind you, I hate the crummy icky stuff that you tend to get in Christmas advent calendars. It literally crumbles in your hands. Yeugh. Real chocolate, milk, white or dark (mmm, dark chocolate…) is to die for. It should melt smoothly in your mouth and spatter your taste buds with all kinds of wonderful flavours. Good chocolate has a mind of its own, but you have to go to special supermarkets for that stuff.

4. Socks. Big fluffy ones. There is nothing in this world, or the next, better than having freezing cold feet, then pulling on some socks and feeling them warm right up again. Go on, try it next time.

5. Hugs From Max. He has this kind of super-power (it's super all right) that means he gives the best hugs in the history of the world. He's a small kid and all, and you'd expect him to be a bit bony, but maybe he inflates or something 'cause those arms come around you and you just don't want to leave. It's like being wrapped in your own little patch of fluffy heaven. He smells really good too. It's sweet, but not bubble-gum sweet. More like…banana sweet. A bit of a funny mental image, but you all have imaginations.

6. Really Bad Films. You know, the kind that you know are terrible, but you watch them anyway. The Muppets Treasure Island. Constantine. Doctor Dolittle 3. Snow Dogs. Mean Girls. Saved. Bambi (especially when you cry when his mother gets shot). The Fox and The Hound (even worse, two boxes of tissues last time). Peter Pan 2. The real-time Peter Pan with the guy who can't act and the only good actor is Hook. The Black Kingdom. I, Robot. Anything with Orlando Bloom in it.

7. The Smell of Rubber. Any rubber, be it the kind you rub out pencil with to the scorched tyre marks on the pavement. All rubber smells so wonderfully…clingy. I would say solventy, but I'm not a druggie. It doesn't make you high, it just fills you from head to toes and you can feel it drifting into your lungs. Okay, maybe I do have a fetish. What's a rubber fetish called anyway?

8. Watching Fish in a Fish Tank. Maybe it's a cat thing, but I love watching fish swim. We went to this restaurant last year (Kai paid, actually) and they had this huge fish tank along the middle of the room. Think Romeo and Juliet, but much bigger. I hardly spoke at all during the meal because I was watching them. Tyson had to notify me when my food came, because I was too busy looking at the rainbow coloured one as it circled the fake-coral reef.

9. Sunsets. I suppose I would like sunrises too, but I'm never up that early. I love how the sky suddenly flashes orange and merges into pink as it hits the clouds just right. I love how you can look straight at the sun and see it, blood-red, like something out of the Lion King.

10. The Quiet Silence When You've Just Woken Up. Ever listened to it? True, if you live in my house with hyperhappybunny and The Thing That Ate The Sofa, you probably won't find it unless you look under your bed. But, it is also true that said friends tend not to even move before nine o'clock in the morning, so you can at least glean some vestige of this sacred time. Kai gets up at Oh-Christ-hundred hours of the morning, but that doesn't matter. He's perfected that art of walking across carpet in socks without making a noise whilst I've known him. He can come in to wake me up and I won't know a thing until he's dropped that glass of water in my face. But before that happens, there's this lovely quiet time when you can lie there, knowing you don't have to get up, listening to the birdsong with your eyes closed and rosy against the sunlight…

Wait a minute. I can hear birds twittering. I can see my eyelids go pink against the sun. This means that Kai has not come to wake me up, which must mean that either he is still asleep or he's incapacitated. I'm more inclined to go with the latter, since Kai never _ever_ sleeps late, not even when jetlagged. You know how you retune your watch when the time goes back? Well, Kai does that with his body-clock.

I crack open an eye and scan the room. Kai is not in it, surprise, surprise, so I dress quickly (or as quickly as you can when putting on five layers) and shuffle my way down to the kitchen. He's not there either, but food is, so I grab several fruity-oaty bars and head out the door.

The first person I see, however, is not Kai. Or the deranged Tala for that matter. Instead, it is Miguel, looking happier than I have seen in days. He's totally unaware of my presence, and I take a second to remember the intimate conversation that he held with Claude yesterday. This is a great opportunity to interrogate him on the subject and find out if my assumptions are correct.

I drop into a stealthy crouch and follow him silently (as silently as one can in ski dungarees made of gore-tex that rustle like a field of leaves on an autumn day) down the hall. He's carrying a basket of what looks like dirty washing and I leap at the chance as he enters the laundry room, sliding in behind him and closing the door.

He turns around as the door clicks closed.

"Ray, don't do that! You gave me a heart attack, for Christ's sake!"

"Sorry," I shrug, using the movement to step closer. I know that the only way to get a proper answer out of him is to make him very uncomfortable, so he doesn't pay attention to what he's letting out. See, watching loads of murder mysteries does help in real life! "I wanted to talk to you…" Unfortunately, I know that Miguel doesn't get uncomfortable easily and there is only one way to do it. Tell Kai and I will kill you. Omae o korosu, just like Heero (I watch way too much Gundam Wing).

"Ray? What are you doing?" Miguel sounds slightly panicked as I edge closer, trapping him in the corner between two washing machines.

"Nothing… I just wanted to talk to you about something…important…" I alter my opinion – Miguel looks decidedly panicked as I place my hands on the washing-machines on either side of him. I'm sorry, maybe I was a temptress in a former life. Probably true, since a psychic I once met told me that my previous name was Delilah

"W-What about?" he stutters, and I lean forward to murmur in his ear.

"About a certain relations between you and a certain team-mate." I hear him gasp and I go for broke. "I know _everything_, Miguel. You can't hide from me."

I lean back to look at him and burst out laughing at the look of utter terror on his face as he almost sits on top of the dryer behind him in an attempt to get away from me.

"Don't take it like that, Miguel!" I joke cheerily, slapping him on the shoulder. "Your secret's safe with me."

"How did you know?"

"You should take care of where you hold your telephone conversations. It didn't take a genius."

He looks both miserable and envious at the same time. "You and Kai are so lucky. You two have been together for ages and no one else seems to notice."

I'm sorry, did I hear that right?

"I mean, not even the media have even _speculated_ about it."

I'm pretty sure I did, or maybe the fumes of last night's nail polish have gone to my head. Incidentally, my toenails are still blue and the hands on either side of Miguel are a lurid purple.

"I've even asked people about it and they say it's not true."

"That's because it isn't," I reply wearily, cottoning on to what he's getting at.

"It's not?" he looks disappointed, then embarrassed.

"In my dreams it is."

"Oh, I see," he face is torn between discomfort and relief. "Really? I always thought that…since you're so close…"

Really? Sorry for taking Miguel's word and all, but really? I decide to voice this incredulity in the most elegant way possible.

"Really?"

"Well, yeah," he replies, as if it's obvious. "You two go everywhere together. Even with Tala and Bryan here, he still spends more time with you. Mystel got it from Brooklyn, who got it from Hiro, who noticed it first."

What is this? Some kind of gossip convention? Honestly Miguel, is that _all_ you and your little effeminate friends do? Chat about poor, unsuspecting beybladers in your little club?

On a totally related subject, you should hear the kind of bitching that goes on in the locker rooms before matches. I'm scolding Miguel for being an effeminate gossip, but it is nothing, _nothing_ I tell you, in comparison to the cat fight that happened last year, when Rick was accused of sabotaging F Dynasty's round. It was completely untrue, of course, but Rick got into a spot of bother with a grumpy Raul and that dragged in both Julia and Emily. Rule number one in locker room fights: Try Not To Get Too Many Girls Involved. Whatever it is, no matter where you are, a girl will fight twice as hard as any guy when given the chance to be a first grade bitch with the excuse that they were 'sticking up for their brother/friend/boyfriend/team-mate'.

On the other end of the scale, when no girls whatsoever are involved (only ever happens if within a girl prohibited area like a boys only locker room or guy's loos) I have seen Beybladers behave just as ruthless as the fairer(?) sex. For example: that time when Ozuma couldn't find his special green towel and blamed it on Joseph, the day before the finals and Tyson and Daichi declared in tears that they 'hated each other' just because they had a fight over the remote control, that memorable incident when Lee proclaimed (rather insensitively) that Michael's choice of outfit made him look 'fat and dumpy'. Mind you, worse things go on in the Russian side of the establishment. Not one day went by during last year's tournament without at least two of them having a little fall-out. You should feel proud, tiny reader, because you have just been witness to the biggest understatement of the year. In no way are Tala and Bryan's arguments _little_. Lets just say that is usually takes Spencer to keep them apart whilst Kai shouts at them in Russian, and then another couple of days of heavy-duty sulking between them before they kiss and make up. Until the next one. And the next. And the next. I mean, what do they argue over? Eyeliner?

I finally realise that Miguel has been waiting for me to say something for the past five minutes whilst I have been aimlessly rambling, so I say the first thing that pops into my head.

"Do you think Bryan and Tala fight over eyeliner?"

Oops.

"Maybe." Oh my God, he's taking me seriously. "I always did wonder why mine went missing just before Tala's battle with Daichi…"

Hehe…oooooh dear. Come back in half an hour's time, I think Miguel and I need to have a little chat…

-

My POW WOW with Mystel and Miguel (their names are way too similar) has gone rather well. I have discovered two, maybe three, very important things that I will hereby relate to you.

One, is that Mystel is another member of the club formally known as Gays United, aka GU, and that the target of his affections is Garland. Unfortunately, he is in a similar situation to myself, as he is unsure as to whether Garland will reciprocate his feelings. Apparently is was Garland (who is quite dishy actually) who attracted Mystel to the idea of blading for BEGA. Somehow, I see so many similarities between us, since Kai is the only thing keeping me from ditching the Bladebreakers, being such a strong pull factor. However, since Mariah is such a strong push factor that if I ever jump ship again, it will _not_ be to the White Tigers. Why I did that last year I do not know. Maybe I was high on rubber or something. Bad judgement and all that.

Two, is that my suspicions about Hiro and Brooklyn have been confirmed. Well, sort of, and please note that it's Hiro **_and_** Brooklyn – single entity, not separate. I had always suspected that something was 'going on' as 'twere, but Mystel clarified a few things for me. Instead of them getting down and dirty, apparently it's more of a kind of sordid love affair, thus explaining all the dancing around they do. He says they fall in and out of love almost every day, and that it is Brooklyn who is the more finicky. Hiro plays the desperate Prince Charming, but every handsome prince gets bored of waiting every so often. How old is Hiro anyway? Random question, I know, but I'm serious. Note to self: ask Tyson. He should know. **Should** being the operative word in that sentence.

Three being that Miguel (the name probably being the most disturbing part) has shown me how to properly apply eyeliner without looking like some kind of Goth. It looks really good too! Not on him, _me_ you plant-pot. Well, Miguel does look good. He actually wears it every day and I just hadn't noticed. Odd, really. Why does he wear make-up when I thought he was the masculine one? Note to self: ask Miguel about effeminate traits.

Thinking about Miguel (a change from Kai) and the feminine qualities of eyeliner, I stand up from the canteen table I have been mulling things over at and make my way towards the door. It's snowing merry hell out there, and it's at least a fifteen minute walk to the hotel, so I put on my helmet and goggles, tucking my hair up so that it doesn't go all soggy. Oh yeah, during our bathroom tryst (stop thinking dirty thoughts, children) when Miguel introduced me to the wonders of looking 'drop-dead gorgeous' as he put it, he managed to get me to unbraid my hair, not to mention finding my brush in one of my myriad pockets before I could say Hopscotch.

It's so cold that I don't bother taking off my helmet until actually inside the hotel room, and I pull it off just as Kai looks up at me. He's reading that bloody book again. Cards, was it?

Unfortunately, it is only when I feel my hair tumble around me that I realise I have done a L'Oreal flick worthy of any major model. Ahem, I mean **_fortunately, _**since Kai's mouth is actually hanging slightly open. I don't think I've ever loved Miguel more. Not as much as Kai, of course – is he drooling? – but I clearly owe him a great debt. Hair and eyeliner – who thought it would be so simple?!?

"Are you wearing…_eyeliner?_" he chokes out at last.

"Um…yeah?" I shuffle my feet and do the whole looking-up-through-hair thing that the nicer, less rabid fan girls do. "Do you like it?"

No answer, but judging from the way he's staring at me, then it's probably a yes. If it was a no, then I would be presented with a disgusted sneer and a comment similar to 'You look like a whore'. Instead, the name's Jones. Delilah Jones, seducer and temptress extraordinaire.

sobThis has been the best Christmas** ever! **Wait…that was months ago…

--

Sorry for the wait, but I hope you are satisfied. Yummy, isn't he?

I love all my reviewers (hint hint)


	6. And now, the weather

**Chapter 6** – Day 4. And Now, The Weather…

-

I don't, and will never, understand why on earth we must drive eleven miles to some mining town, when on a _skiing_ holiday, to go paintballing.

_Paintballing._

I'm sorry, it's just beyond me. It's a perfectly nice, sunny day with good snow and not too many crowds and we're being let loose into a patch of woodland to shoot at one another. And the icing on the cake is that we're going at some ungodly hour because that's the only time we could get a booking.

Oh yeah – and we get the whole thing to ourselves. _Goody_.

I think I'm going to kill Hiro. One more day of getting up at half-past four and my sanity will be seriously compromised. That is, if I had a shred of sanity left. Which I don't. Still, all is not lost, because I am just fine here, sandwiched between the M&Ms (that's Miguel and Mystel to you and me) in the back seat of this minibus, thankful that I'm over _here_ and Mariah's over _there_. Kai's on the other side of Miguel, which I am seriously jealous of, and Tala's in the corner next to him. Bryan, as you can imagine, would have two seats to himself, but the minibus is a little cramped and so there is no room for empty seats. Can you guess which poor soul is sitting next to the Stuff Of Nightmares? With a packet of Jelly Babies, no less? In this case, I think I pity Bryan more. Max on a sugar high is something that no one should have to see at twenty-seven minutes past five in the morning. Ever.

"_And now, the weather. Today's skies will be cloudless and sunny. Precipitation will be minimal, confined to the north-west, not breaking until later on in the week. There will be an outbreak of fog over the resorts of Kimberly and Fernie that will disperse as the sun breaks over the mountains. We have also received reports of large amounts of bitchiness in the north-east with high levels of temperamental tantrums from Hurricane Ivanov…"_

Uh huh. If you hadn't guessed, that hormone hasn't spiked today and we are back to regular Tala Ivanov. In fact, scrap that. We're back to Family serving Tala Ivanov with a super-sized side order of irritability. And before you ask, no. You do not get a toy with your Happy Meal.

The teams are already decided. It was preordered, but the three Russians would not be separated from each other. I personally am of the opinion that they think they can do more damage together than against each other. I can therefore only thank every deity imaginable that I am on the same team as them. Not that it will stop them. I foretell many incidents of not being very sporting – i.e. oops-my-finger-slipped or I-thought-you-were-on-their-team. Even more surprising – no, wrong word, more like scandalous – is that the girls have been split. Let me rephrase that: the **_twins_** have been split. Yup, we on the blue team have Julia in the house and I don't want to be in the firing line between her and Raul. Years of sibling rivalry might just blow up in our faces if we're not too careful.

And yes, I did say **we** on the blue team. I attached myself to Kai (not physically) and am therefore stuck with his annoyingly destructive friends. But happiness prevails in a sense, as Fate has also granted me Miguel (Mystel is (un)fortunately on the red team), Garland and Brooklyn. Miguel good, because he's a member of GU and we've got to stick together. Plus, he's possibly the most sane of us. Brooklyn bad, because he'll probably drop his gun at once, declaring it too violent in favour of some nature hike, but we'll soldier on (no pun intended) without him. Garland very good, because since he's so sporty, he's amazing at this sort of thing. Two Russians that won't hesitate to shoot anything that moves, added to the honour-crazed fight-or-die Garland, I can say with some confidence that we'll win.

That is, we'll win if the three girls on the red team don't have one of those 'must prove that girls are better than guys' moments. These usually happen in the middle of tournaments, not necessarily after a chauvinist male has made a derogatory comment. It's like some sort of tidal wave; once one goes off, the rest follow, drowning any guy sufficiently stupid to venture close enough.

"All right, boys and girls, we're here!"

Be quiet, Hiro. You're barely out of the 'boy' category, not so sure about the 'girl' though, yourself and it's way too early for you to be so cheery.

The mob exit the minibus and I am swept along with them and into a hut that has definitely seen better days and has a sign marked 'Visitor's Centre' above the door. Waiting for us inside (which I think is actually colder than outside) is a man in a bright orange ski-suit. And, as if you thought your retinas couldn't take any more abuse, he's also wearing a clear pink plastic boiler suit over the top, complete with hood.

Please God, tell me I don't have to wear one of those.

"Hi everybody!"

What, do you expect us to reply, 'Hi Doctor Nick' or something?

"Hi Doctor Nick!"

I stand corrected. Tyson and Max watch way too much television.

"Welcome to Bear Track paintballing centre! We hope you'll have a fun and enjoyable stay here this morning!"

Could this guy be any more cheerful? When he talks, you can _hear_ the exclamation marks rolling off him. And, just for the record, it's seven minutes to six in the morning, it's at least twelve degrees below zero (that's when the thermometer broke) and we're a gathering of teenagers, hoping to every single form of God, Fate, Destiny or Comatose Banana that you won't tell us to wear that clear pink bin-liner that reminds me uncannily of Mariah. So, no. I don't think we'll be having a _fun_ and _enjoyable_ stay.

"Could you separate into two teams please, eight in each if your chaperone joins you."

Hiro? Our _chaperone?_ Ha! There's a laugh. And he would never pass up the chance to shoot us all with a good excuse in mind. But we all dutifully separate and wait for the next instruction.

"Okay, now since it's so cold today, we won't be asking you to change out of your ski-suits into army combats-"

Thank God.

"-but to make sure the paint does not stain your clothes, we will be asking you to wear a protective suit over the top."

Oh no. He's pulled out a whole packet of the dreaded fashion nightmares, and he's handing them out to…to…to the other team!!!! Yes! We get blue ones because we're in the _blue_ team!! Wait, I've still got to **wear** the thing, next to the three Russians (particularly Kai) who will somehow make it look like something that's just crawled off a Milan catwalk. The lesser mortals among us (that's me, Miguel, Garland and Brooklyn – Julia doesn't count. She's a girl and their figures can take much more degradation than this before reaching meth-hyped tramp status like us) will merely look like bad space-men out of a crummy C-movie made in someone's garage. At least we're not bright pink, though. Ya boo sucks to you, red team.

After we are all changed into our Martian outfits (as expected, Tala, Bryan and Kai's suits have all been designed by Emporio Armani), given a gun and instructed in its use (point and shoot, it's not that hard) we are herded back outside. The red team are led away to their starting point, somewhere off to the left, whilst I blindly follow Garland, who has apparently been listening.

A whistle sounds and the game begins.

Absolutely nothing happens. You'd think that all hell would fall upon us seconds after the word go, but all is deceptively quiet. Brooklyn has already disappeared – wait, no, he's over there, looking at squirrels – as have Garland and Julia. The three Russians haven't moved, but they've all gone peculiarly still. Oh, I get it, they're listening for the enemy. Good idea, must be something to do with the Abbey – ways to kill people whilst wasting as little energy as possible.

Hey, I can see Garland! He's behind that log over there, obviously carefully camouflaged, since I did a kind of double (make that triple) take when I saw something strangely blue and silver behind that bush. Julia, however, is nowhere to be seen. The case for feminine super-powers is getting stronger – first, eyeliner's speech-halting properties, and now this, invisibility. They say men are from Mars and women are from Venus…Krypton, more like.

I think I just heard a twig snap. But Kai and the uber-maniacs haven't moved, so maybe I was just imagining it…

There it is again. Still, no one moves a muscle, apart from Brooklyn who is wandering the forest, trying to feed the squirrels brazil nuts. Curse my neko-jin hearing! Now I'm dangerously paranoid; it's definitely better to be blissfully ignorant. Where's Miguel gone?

How can the others not hear it? Or is my mind playing tricks on me? And where has Miguel disappeared to? How is it that I am suddenly over _here_, whilst everyone else has somehow managed to transfer themselves over _there_?

I have just realised that, the fourth time being a bit too lucky for my taste, I should probably tell the others that we are being stalked by the some of the most dangerous people on the planet – beybladers are very accurate, you know – second only to the rabid animals that are fan-girls.

Fan-girls are the reincarnated ghosts of many a Celtic horde. Trust me, the similarities are striking. They are relentless, usually scantily clad and lust after only one thing. Us. What is more, they always turn up at the worst of times. For example, when one tries to have a decent conversation with one's gorgeous captain, or when one is hyped past the point of fan-girl insanity that one just might spill it all and ask said gorgeous captain out, on the brink of declaring one's undying love and trying desperately to make sure the words that are coming out of one's mouth are coherent. They're not solitary animals, either. They come in packs and attack together, using teamwork to hem you in and make sure you will not leave that shopping centre/stadium/changing room/telephone box alive. Luckily, Kai seems to have a sixth sense for the things, and usually exits the building during the calm before the storm. See, there **are** practical reasons for me virtually stalking him.

What was I doing before I went on a ramble about rabid fan-girls? Oh yeah. Tell Kai that the Apocalypse is coming.

"Kai, I think I heard-"

Too late. With a feral war cry, the snow covered bush beside me erupts and Max emerges from it, brandishing a gun filled with little balls of pink paint. The rest of the red pink team follows suit and I suddenly find myself a sole point of blue in the midst of every shade of Mariah. It transpires that the pink team (most likely led by Hiro) have divided our team, leaving me on one side and the others on, well, the other. Shots are starting to fly and everyone else on my team has disappeared, leaving me as the only target.

Where have the Russians gone? They were just there, I swear it on…on…well, not my life, maybe Mariah's. Wait, I can see something…The only speck of red on the playing field since the red team are most definitely not examples of their namesake. It must be Tala's hair. Oh, and I can see splashes of blue-grey beside it, not to mention blue shots come every so often from their hiding place. My entire being is now centred upon this. My mission, if I choose to accept it, is to get myself over to that log so that Kai can protect me, like he has so many times when faced with a large mob of fan-girls. Congratulations, I've accepted. On your marks, get set, go.

Three strides take me from behind the tree that has been sheltering me, onto a handy stump and into a flying leap for my goal. I land short by ten yards or so and fall rather gracefully, if I may say so myself, into a large snowdrift. Doing a snow explosion like Max, I run headlong towards what I _think_ is the right tree and am almost there when something grabs me by the arm and pulls me to the ground.

Miguel makes sure that all of my limbs are behind the barrier before shooting blind over the top towards the still yelling opposition.

"Are you okay, Ray? I thought you had a bit of a brain freeze there, you didn't move for a minute."

"Yeah, I'm okay." As okay as I can be when my chance of being heroically rescued by the guy of my dreams has just been ripped out from under my nose. I can see the said guy from here, peering around his barricade at the enemy, letting loose short, accurate burst of fire. There's a frown on his face, and I know that Kai usually does have a frown on his face, but this one's different. This one looks almost pained.

"I can't see Julia anywhere. Garland broke cover after they came too near his hiding place, but I haven't seen her all game."

Miguel's voice pulls me out of my reverie and reminds me that this is a game based primarily on shooting, so I try and figure out which of the UMO's (Unidentified Magenta Objects) is Mariah, but they all look the same, so I settle on Hiro as punishment for bringing us here. Max is already 'dead', covered in paint, but is still running around like a madman. Thank God he's got no more ammo. Mariam might actually _be_ dead, as she appears to be half buried in snow and Salima is sitting, rather sulkily, on the ground, a killing splash across her visor. Mystel is happily bouncing, Hiro somehow keeps evading my shots and Raul is looking decidedly wary.

"_FOR FEMINISM!!!!"_

Enter Julia.

Exit Tyson, Mariah and Max, whom she clubs over the head with her rifle.

Everyone stops to look as she and Raul square off, except Tala, who seizes the chance to kill Hiro and Mystel whilst they're not moving.

_-Due to technical difficulties coupled with scenes of a violent nature, not suitable for family viewing, we have had to censor this section of your entertainment. The previous programme will continue shortly-_

-

Julia won, making the score eight-zero.

Not surprising, since despite the fact that our team was one member short (Brooklyn didn't turn up again until we were back in the minibus) we still had lunatics like Tala to pick off the more difficult ones.

I am currently standing outside the poshest restaurant in the resort – the kind that you would usually go to all dressed up, but that's not an option when it's minus twenty-one degrees. My reasons, however, are more than a little bit sinful…

And, I _know_ I shouldn't have said yes, but a chance to eat something that isn't spaghetti and drink something other than hot chocolate was too good to pass up!

And it's not really a _date_, since I'll just politely tell him at the end that Sorry, he's not my type.

If you hadn't guessed, I'm not talking about Kai.

He is quite sweet, though, my not-date. His name's Julian and I met him after we came back from the paintballing fiasco. I had decided to get in a few runs before it got dark and I somehow managed to end up next to him on the ski-lift. Halfway up the slope, he called me 'beautiful' (though how he saw past my scarf, helmet and goggles, I don't know) and asked me whether I would like to have meal with him tonight. And when he mentioned that we would be going to the swankiest restaurant in town, I couldn't help but say yes.

He's not late, by the way. I'm early, since I was all too glad to get away from the monopoly game that Max had dragged us all into. 'All' meaning himself, Tyson and me, but I escaped too soon to play. Shame.

"Hey, babe. Hope you weren't waiting too long, wouldn't want to keep a pretty thing like you out in the cold."

Like I said before, he must have X-ray vision too see through my cold-weather gear. I shake my head emphatically.

"Good, then let's get inside, our table's waiting."

He booked a table? Well, I suppose you must have to in here. I suddenly feel a lot smaller as we are ushered through the brightly lit room to our table, worried how much snow I am trailing on the carpet.

"Take your hat and coat off, sweetheart. I'll be a gentleman and help you into your seat." I divest myself of my winter clothing and gratefully sit down in the chair he offers me, my hair (which I have left long for this not-date) tumbling around me, the look slightly spoiled by my ski-dungarees and cosy fleece.

"So, what's a pretty lady like you doing all the way out here?" He looks up at me as he sits down and his face falls just as I comprehend his words.

"_Lady?!?"_ I ask, dumbstruck (for once).

He goes beet red.

"Look, I'm really sorry, but I thought- I thought that you were- that you were…"

"A girl?"

"Well, yeah!" he stares at me as if it's all my fault. "You've got really long hair and your name's May, for God's sake!"

"It's _Ray_," I correct, thinking back to how windy it was on that chair-lift.

He starts to gather up his things. The signs are nicht gut.

"Listen, the meal's pre-paid and they're set courses, so if you want to stay and eat then that's fine, but I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable eating with- with a…"

He flees the restaurant, leaving me still sitting at the table and waitress hovering nearby.

"Will you be staying to eat, sir?" she asks tentatively.

"Yes," I decide. Waste not, want not. "But would it be all right if I called a friend to eat with me?"

"Yes, sir. The telephone is right over here."

--

Yes, I know I said a chapter for each day, but I'll write that later, in favour of giving you this now. You prefer that, don't you?


	7. God must hate me

Chapter 7 – Day 4 (The Conclusion). God Must Hate Me.

-

"What a retard! He actually thought you were a girl?"

"Well, I was wearing full snowman regalia, so I can't blame him…"

"You shouldn't be so understanding! Be an unconditional bastard sometimes and call him a blind mole-rat or something similarly complimentary."

I know. The miracle has finally happened. I called Kai, who, upon coming to the restaurant, became suddenly more talkative. Aaaaand, he has even called this a **_date_** and confessed that he's in love with me.

Haha, I wish.

To separate the truth from the lies, I _did_ call Kai. Or at least, I called our hotel room (I sadly have forgotten the magical walkie-talkie). However, there was no answer, probably because I vaguely remember him saying he wanted to go boarding on the night-lit runs. Of course, he said it in fewer words. Instead, I called the only other person I think I could stand spending an entire meal alone with. And no. It's not Tala.

I know what you're thinking. That I spend way too much time with Miguel, but if I didn't, I think I'd go insane. When the alternative is someone like Hiro (who will just moan about Brooklyn's renewed attempt to rebuff him) or (…shudder…) Mariah, I think I'll take a fellow gay-boy any day.

Okay, maybe it's time to set things straight about Mariah, 'cause I feel kind of mean slagging her off all the time. She's not _that_ desperate, but she can be much worse than you've seen her on this holiday. Skiing calls for warm, thick clothes. Warm, thick clothes that **cover**. Some of the things I've seen her wear (or not wear, as the case may be) you would not believe. Some of the more revealing shirts have permanently scarred my eyes. I would have gouged out my eyes with a blunt spoon rather than see some of _them_.

In a nutshell, Mariah is kind, a romantic, very determined, conscientious, funny, up-beat and intelligent. The thing is, people see these lovely qualities and expect that I should like her for them. There is a fundamental problem with this, however: in my presence, all of these qualities are negated. In my presence, Mariah becomes a little…desperate. Note that I say this from the perspective of a man, a gay man at that. For all I know, this is perfectly normal behaviour among girls and, from what I have seen, this is indeed true.

I don't think I'll ever understand girls. They are shaped differently, sure, but I don't see how that makes them so different to us. I mean, there must be something wrong with their brains or something, because there are many quirks of their society that man will never comprehend. That's what their lives are all about, society. As a gay-boy and therefore concerned with my personality, looks and otherwise social standing, I do know to some extent the ways in which they operate. However, I have never, and will never, know why on earth a fight can be diffused with a compliment in the right tone and why one can be started with a compliment in another. For example, take this innocent sentence: 'But you're such good friends!'. Mathilda instructed me on this at a party once – we were fairly drunk and very bored – she said that if you put the emphasis on the 'friends' part, then bingo: instant friends, albeit the smiles might be a bit fixed. On the other hand, if you put the emphasis on the 'such', then you're in for a whole world of pain. Either that or you've got some show to watch. Another thing was that the emphasis must be subtle, or this will reveal your ineptitude at social manipulation and you will be ostracised forever.

Complicated, I know.

Where was I? Oh yes, Miguel is expecting me to say something. Anything. What were we talking about?

"Um…terracotta?"

He looks at me, blinks a couple of times, then bursts out laughing. Some of the other restaurant goers turn around, but he's too busy stifling his laughter in his napkin to notice.

"Ah, Ray. You make me laugh." No duh. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you're friends with a bunch of low-lives like us."

"Eh? You got me confused with someone else?"

"No!" He looks suddenly conspiratorial, as if he shouldn't be saying this. "Come on, Ray. You're funny, not because you like telling jokes but because of just you and your personality. You're always looking at things with a level head and you see all sides of the situation. You're friendly, not prejudiced, you're intelligent, you're _beautiful_. Truly, Ray, you could be model or something and leave the rest of us in the dust!"

Gosh darn it, that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me! My cheeks are brighter than a stop-light, I can tell.

"You don't mean that," I reply, looking out of the window, away from Miguel's earnest eyes and see a shadow beyond the reflections on the glass. Wait a minute…is that…?

Holy crap, it is.

I am sitting at a table for two in the swankiest restaurant on the mountain, with Miguel leaning over the table towards me saying really sweet things and a blush a shade of red brighter than that storm that constantly rages on Jupiter, with **_Kai_** outside, lifting up his goggles in disbelief.

Oh scheize.

"What's wrong?" I turn back to Miguel, who's looking at me worriedly. "You've gone from red to white like some kind of candy cane."

"I just saw-" but when I look back at the window, he's gone.

The rest of the meal passes with conversation about mundane things, along with a helping of gossip. Miguel and I part ways afterwards to our separate hotel rooms and Kai's already in bed when I get in. He's not asleep, I know. I get changed into my pyjamas and prepare myself for the belly of the beast.

"Kai?" I ask tentatively, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Hn."

"Kai, what did I do?" No point in beating about the bush with Kai. He'll just tune you out. "Really, I know you're-" I almost say upset, but then I remember it's a taboo descriptive word. "-not happy and I know it's because of me."

"…"

"_Please_, Kai. I need to know what's wrong so I won't do it again. Just like training. If I'm launching wrong, then I could try it differently so many times until I get it right, or you could tell me what to do and I'd get it right first time. _Please_?"

"Forget it. It's nothing. Go to bed."

I sigh and turn to get into my own bed, but instead I climb under the covers with my captain and, surprisingly, he says nothing.

--


	8. WTF?

I know it's short, but exams loom and I thought I'd post this just to placate you. Pleasedon'tkillme!

-

**Chapter 8** – Day 6 – WTF?!?

-

I know what you're thinking, the amazing psychic that I am, and it is for a very good reason that I can see into your innermost thoughts, strange and slightly disturbing as they are.

It's because I'm thinking it too.

Where did day five go???

Now, I'm not a very forgetful person. Granted, I may occasionally go off into a world of my own populated with only myself and Kai and forget the last thing said to me, but that is nothing like this. I always remember to go shopping, always remember that I have to check all food before buying because Max is allergic to E664, write important things on the calendar (like the finals of the BBA tournament) so _the rest of them_ don't forget, change the bog roll, remember that when the remote gets lost it's **always** under the sofa, tell Hilary that we're having a boys' night in before she arrives and insists that we watch Bambi, phone the authorities when Tyson escapes from his cage… This isn't because I'm organised; I am the worst kind of organiser in the history of organising – the house notice board is in a state of structured chaos that it seems only I can read. I think I understand why. The mish-mash of post-it notes, receipts, business cards and timetables looks worse than the Somme after Field Marshall Haig told his troops to just walk across because the Germans wouldn't shoot at them 'because they had no guns'.

So, I have proved (proven?) to you that I am not a forgetful person. I live in a state of (dis)organisation and, while my attention span can be a little short at times (times like when Kai walks in the room), I am pretty sure I would be able to remember what I did yesterday.

So why is it that I can't?

It's almost as if someone has taken the chalkboard of my mind, thrown a bucket of water at it, scrubbed it until all the marks in the section marked 'yesterday' were erased and scrawled all over it before declaring it 'art'. Because that's all I can remember. Scrawl. No memories of waking up, no memories of snowboarding…

Right, lets start from the beginning. What can I remember from the day before yesterday? I went on a date…with a Canadian guy…who thought I was…ah yes! He thought I was a girl. I remember he made tracks soon after he found out I wasn't. Then what happened? Miguel…something to do with Miguel…I invited Miguel to dinner with me instead…we had Sea Bass with potatoes and broccoli…KAI was there! Yes, I remember! Kai saw me there with Miguel and when I went to talk to him, he wouldn't say why he was upset…_holy flip, I got in bed with Kai._

Oh dear. Since that was the day before yesterday, I can assume that I will not still be in his bed today. Unless, of course, yesterday I seduced him and came back to bed for some rather steamy antics. If this is so (pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease can it be so?) then Kai should still be in bed with me, because I don't think he's the kind of guy to go and leave after…

I open my eyes. The bed is sadly free of slate hair and violet eyes. Ah well, a guy can dream.

I get up and stumble out of bed, noticing that I am still in my room, not some random stranger's. Just think if I woke up in Miguel's room…don't know what I'd do. Don't know what Kai would do. I pull on clothes without really thinking about it and consequently put my T-shirt and jumper on back to front. I rectify my mistake as I leave the hotel room, then have to go back for my forgotten helmet.

So what happened next? I'll find Miguel. If I got up and went to my lesson like normal, he would have seen me. If I didn't, then I'd also better check whether Tala was grumpy or happy yesterday. If he was, then he probably dragged me somewhere.

"Miguel!"

I catch him as he enters the ski locker room and he turns to me in surprise.

"Ray! How are you? I didn't see you yesterday afternoon. Someone told me you got back really late. Oh, and how are you and Kai?"

"Huh? What's wrong with me and Kai?"

"I dunno, I just heard somewhere that he was a bit off yesterday. Something to do with the restaurant, I think."

"Oh." So he was grumpy yesterday too…oh, please can we not have had an argument… "Did you see him yesterday morning? I think I missed him."

He stares at me in confusion. "How could you, Ray? You were with him! I definitely saw you and him at breakfast with Tala."

Tala? The odds for yesterday being a 'happy' day are becoming more and more bet-worthy. But if I was with Tala (whom I will hereby call Lala, to avoid confusion) and the previous day's events had put Kai in a bad mood, then it's more than probable that Kai was merely tagging along to make sure that Lala didn't spontaneously decide to hold a Little Miss Mountain pageant in the canteen. Damn.

I pick up my snowboard and pull on my boots before clomping out of the hotel. Most skier people leave the top boot clips undone to give more freedom of movement (i.e. so they can actually walk) because the stupid boots hold you in a constant position of knees-slightly-bent. Apparently it kills after a couple of hours and I've seen the evidence – Mariam's shins are one solid bruise. Thankfully, my boots are more walking friendly, so I quickly overtake all the others as they struggle towards the canteen.

If only the higher beings above could have shelled out some more lolly, then we could have gone to a nice, big resort (lots of space to lose Mariah in) and stayed in a hotel that had ski-in, ski-out access. As it is, while our mountain is quite large, it's a little bit out of the way and the accommodation here isn't exactly seven star. Of course, it means there are fewer crowds, which is good because less traffic means a smaller chance of hitting someone, but it also means that I can't easily lose Mariah if she catches sight of me. It also doesn't help that you can't reverse – when skiing, the only mode of travel is down.

I don't entirely get the canteen either. It is basically the only place to eat on the hill, apart from that swanky one that hardly anyone goes to and the measly kitchenette in our room (incidentally, I found out that no one else has one, and their rooms are much smaller than mine and Kai's. Apparently Kai chipped in a bit to bump our room up, which is why we have a kitchen-thing, a living area, a bathroom and loft bedroom, instead of two queen beds, a tiny telly and a widgy bathroom). You have to leave your board outside on a rack (I would say pray it doesn't get stolen, but mine's rental so I don't care), and go inside to eat. This is at least two hundred yards from the hotel but is always the warmest place on the mountain. When you come inside, you have to take off your goggles at once, or they steam up so bad it's like trying to see through a plastic wallet.

Right, on to food. I have successfully dumped my crummy rental board and removed my goggles (I can see again!). What shall I have for breakfast today, I wonder…?

Tray in hand, I glance up at the board. One thing you should know: a faire du ski, breakfast is a meal no different from lunch or dinner. Therefore, the canteen sells exactly the same things, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yesterday (well, the day before yesterday), I had soup of the day with hot chocolate and a glazed donut. Mmm, that was yummy; think I'll have one of those again.

Soup of the (to)day is broccoli and cauliflower. Urgh, no thanks. It's a kind of khaki colour and I don't think I can face that this early in the morning. Maybe later. Instead I think I'll go for something different this time. Heh, out of the corner of my eye I can see a couple of the girls with salads – weight conscious females – and I laugh in the face of their femininity as I ask the girl behind the hot food counter:

"Hi, can I have a double cheeseburger with everything on it, a bowl of baked beans and one of those fresh blueberry muffins behind you?"

And, believe it or not, she replies: "Sure, would you like fries with that?"

"Yes, please." The girls are looking at me in horror. "Thanks very much."

I grab a tapioca pudding on my way to the till and pay for my feast. Yum, a burger, a muffin, a donut, pudding, some beans and ketchupy chips – a feast fit for a king. Don't look at me like that, I bet Elvis ate stuff like this every day. Well, maybe not for breakfast, but the King of Rock and Roll can do anything.

I sit down next to Mystel who is already halfway through his breakfast, having decided to brave the soup, and who eyes my tray with mild amusement.

"Interesting choice there, Ray. A bit risqué, isn't it? A far cry from Brooklyn's banana at any rate. I can hear your arteries hardening from here. Are you stocking up after yesterday's fast?"

"Fast?" I pause in the act of inhaling my muffin.

"Yeah, I didn't see you come in here and eat anything yesterday. You didn't listen to Miguel when he mentioned dieting, did you?"

"No…I just…wasn't hungry…" But I am now. The muffin is already gone, along with most of the beans and half of the cheeseburger. "Um, you didn't happen to see me anywhere else yesterday, did you?"

"No, you disappeared shortly after my first glimpse. I'll have you know I spent half an hour chasing a light blue blob with long hair, thinking it was you. I even followed her down an advanced run! Why, sudden amnesia?"

"Maybe…"

--

Thank you, and goodnight. I love reviewers (hint hint) and will therefore shower imaginary gifts upon them.


	9. Conversation

Dedicated to Bob – chemistry will never be the same .

-

Chapter 9 – Day 6 – Conversation

-

If I'm going to rediscover anything about yesterday, then I have find Kai. I refuse to believe that, after the horror of the restaurant incident, I had nothing to say to him. he might have even had something to say to me, unlikely as it is.

But how do I find Kai? He wasn't in the hotel room, he's not here in the canteen and his stuff was gone, so he must out somewhere on the hill. And that's one big hill. I'd better get searching.

I bid goodbye to Mystel and fetch my board from the rack outside. I then stand there like an idiot as I get out my map, unfold it like some kind of wind-break and peer at the tiny symbols.

These maps are a nightmare. It's a picture of the mountain with patches of trees and white for runs, with a mass of green, blue and black squiggly lines indicating how difficult they are. The runs are all called cheerful, Canadian things like 'Trillium' and 'Big Dipper', but don't let that fool you. There's a double black diamond (so difficult that only the clinically insane should try it) in another bowl called 'Cloud Nine'. Oxymoron or what?

Looking at the map, it's easy to see that most of the easy and intermediate runs are on the right side of the mountain and that the left side is dominated with intermediate, difficult and suicidal runs. From this, I can gather that Kai will be spending his time on the _left_ side, as he only deems the right skiable when trailing behind my struggling attempts. Unfortunately, I can only do easy and easy-intermediate, so my search is going to be hampered somewhat. Oh well, there's a blue all the way to the bottom in case I get stuck and give up.

I make my way to the Timber Express, the longest lift on the mountain, and end up sandwiched between some Australians on the four-seater lift.

The conversations one has when making the transition from down to up always follow a distinct pattern. This is because, unless they are wearing a very unique electric blue Cossack hat, you will never recognise these people, much less _see_ them again. Therefore, I quote 'Fight Club' with glee, these single-serving friends talk about neutral, single-serving things.

_Number one: country of origin._

"Hi there! Whereabouts are you from?"

Hmm, China or Japan? Born in China, but spent the last four-ish years in Japan. Ah, sod it. If my clan knew about my…tendencies…I'd be kicked out of China quicker than a chicken with bird flu.

"Japan. You?"

_Number two: explanation and polite comment/question._

"Australia. We love skiing, so we're here whilst it's summer down under. But why are you here? I thought the skiing was great in Japan?"

"Yeah, but I'm with a gathering from all over the world, so we decided on something easier to get to."

_Number three: customary question – 'Do You Like It Here?'._

"Oh, that's cool. So, do you like it here?"

"Yeah, it's fun. I hadn't boarded before this week, and the people are really nice."

_Number four: insert comment about the weather._

"Yeah, we thought that. Apparently in Europe, the atmosphere isn't nearly so great. Pity about the weather, though, huh?"

Just this morning, it started snowing like the sky had dandruff and it was scratching more than vigorously. The weather reports say that it'll get worse in a few days and we might even have blizzard warnings. In the meantime, the snow just collects on you as you sit on the lifts, so you come off the other end like the Abominable Snowman.

The sign 'ski tips up' looms on the nearest pylon, so the conversation comes to an end. I slide off without incident, skate into the flat area at the top and never see my chair-mates again. Instead, I see-

"Kai!"

Damn, he didn't hear me. Double damn, he went down a black run where I cannot follow without putting my life in considerable danger. Never fear, he's heading for the White Pass Lift and I can get there easily by taking a slightly longer blue. At least, I think so…

Okay, a word of warning. Never try to snowboard and look at a map at the same time. It is not fun. But I've found the right run and it doesn't look _too_ hard. In truth, it isn't, and I'm at the White Pass quicker than I anticipated, but not quick enough to catch Kai. Onwards and upwards, my dear friend. Lets cadge a lift with someone.

This time I'm sat next to two ski-school kids and their instructor. There is the compulsory Conversation (Japan? Really? Do you like it here? It's great we're getting more snow, etc.) and as we near the top, I spot Kai strapping on his board. I hurry off the lift, but he's gone, the powder still settling.

Bugger. Why is it bugger? Because he could have gone down any of these runs and I know that they are all too difficult for me. I'll just have to take the only easy-intermediate, ('Falling Star' is almost 3 miles long), to the bottom and wait for him there. He has to come down sometime.

I weave a dejected path down the mountain, taking time to look at the stunning view. Unfortunately, either it's not stunning enough or I'm too depressed to be cheered by it. it doesn't help that gazing at the scenery is usually an activity accompanied with sighs and usually a symptom of the others having an argument back home.

I had forgotten that the snowboard park and half-pipe came off Falling Star. Wish I could do that, but I can't even follow Kai down the mountains, let alone do tricks like that on my tray. There's a particularly good guy sessioning the half-pipe now, kicking up ten feet of air on either side. sigh.

Okay, I think I'm doing this way too often for my own good, but wait a minute…

No one else I know has a phoenix on the bottom of their board.

"Kai!"

He hears me this time and pauses on the lip of the half-pipe. I slide over to him and realise, with a pang of surprise, that Kai looks almost uneasy. Now, why would he do that, I wonder?

"Kai, I really need to talk to you. It's about-"

"Can't it wait?" His voice is clipped, almost strained.

"Uh, not really. It's about yesterday, I wanted to ask you what-"

I stop, because it's clear that he's not listening to me. Normally, he gets this glazed look and he'll glare at a point in space just to the right of you. Of course, since Kai's face is now obscured by his goggles, scarf and helmet, I have to rely on body language, and what I see there isn't so happy. He's standing just like Tala when he's pissed, hips very slightly cocked and his body facing me, but his head turned away. Talking to him is like trying to make conversation with the Stig or something – utterly pointless, with a fair chance of pain as the reward for your efforts.

At my sudden silence, his head snaps back to face me and he lifts his goggles up. I have to repress a shiver, as his eyes are almost glowing in anger.

"Go ask Tala. I'm sure he'd **love** to help you out."

He pulls his goggles down again and disappears down an expert run without another glance, let alone a word.

I am currently in a state of utter bewilderment. Kai is acting like a cross between Tala on his bitchiest of days and Julia when she has PMS. This is making me ever more intrigued as to what happened yesterday, as I must have done something awful to make Kai so upset (oops, taboo descriptive word). There's only one thing for it. I'll have to take Kai's advice and hope for the best.

_I have to talk to Tala._

--

The first one to recognise which 'Stig' I'm talking about gets a sneak preview of the next chapter!

I love all my reviewers (hint, hint)


	10. Never take up life as a hobby

I'm back! After a _very_ extended period of nothingness, the rollercoaster ride that is Ray's life is back on track. Well, actually, it's not. From his point of view, it's all messed up. But at least you can now hear about it. Enjoy.

-

Chapter 10 – Day 6 (cont.) – Never take up life as a hobby. It's not worth it.

-

Tala (Lala?) is sitting, ever so innocently, at a table at the back of the canteen with a steaming drink and a packet of crackers in front of him, his nose in a book. Before I take the plunge and actually go over there, instead of hovering like an obscene Harrier jump jet in the doorway, please join me in a short prayer:

_Dear Lord, we are thankful for Bryan's delinquency in drugging Tala into a state of loving, not hating, and we are also inexpressibly thankful that this joyous happening has coincided with this trip. Please bless us again and ensure that Tala is in this state of loving today, thereby saving one of Your subject's lives. It would also be appreciated if You could make it so that he was in this state of loving yesterday, too._

Deep breaths, now.

"Hi Tala," I say nonchalantly, sitting down opposite him like I do it every day at school, we're bestest buddies and buy our lunch together, yippee.

He waves a hand at me. "One second, Ray. I just want to finish this chapter…"

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Tala is clearly under the influence today, or he would have probably clubbed me over the head with that book he's holding, dragged me home and fed me to his pet Dinosaur, Bryan. Mmm, yummy ski-helmet…

A moment later, he marks his page and puts down the book with a sigh.

"Ahh, Barton is so romantic!"

"Huh?" I'm about to ask why he's reading a romance novel, of all things, but then I realise what he's reading. It's that one that Kai was reading the other day. At least, it's got the same cover – the ace of hearts – since I can't even recognise the writing on the front, let alone read it. "Um…Tala?"

"Yup?" I'm suddenly almost overcome with a strange urge to hug him very, very tight and never let him go, he looks so sweet, but I resist.

"What's that book about?"

"This?" He snatches it up again, starry eyed. "It's the most sweet and lovely romance story I have ever read! Barton, the main character, falls in love with this girl, but she turns out to be some daughter of some rich guy, so they can never be together properly, so they have this sweet love affair over games of cards!"

"I thought that it was about politics…?"

"Oh, yes, and that too, but the real story is how she realises he's not just some drunkard. Kai recommended it to me, you know. You can borrow it after I've finished."

"Small problem: I can't read Russian."

"A minor difficulty. You can get these things translated."

"Maybe. So, Kai lent you this…love story?"

"Yeah! It's, like, his favourite book of the moment. He read it obsessively after he bought it."

Obsessively indeed. Almost all night, in fact. This is a totally new revelation. Kai reads sappy romance stories behind our backs, safe in the knowledge that none of us will ever learn Russian. Who'd have thought it?

"But I bet you weren't just coming over here to talk about my book. What's bugging you Ray? You've got a look on your face that reminds me of the time Helena brought a dead rabbit into the house."

Ooh, lovely. "Thanks, Tala. And who's Helena?"

"My cat. She's lovely, really. Just a little vicious at first sight. She's a right pussy-cat inside, though, and she loves Bryan to pieces."

Yeah, I bet she does. If this cat can bring down a rabbit and befriend the most mentally unhinged man on the planet, it must be something a little different from the average domestic housecat. An escaped leopard, maybe.

"Oh," I say, as one can only say 'oh' when presented with such a piece of information. "Uh, I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot." Christ, Lala, I wish you were like this all the time. On second thought, maybe not. I am thoroughly reminded of that age-old adage: 'Be careful what you wish for', and I don't want to be the one responsible for siccing the world's most temperamental child-girl-boy-man-thing on the innocent populace. Emphasis on the 'mental' part.

"Uh, it's about yesterday…"

"What about yesterday?" Tala is fiddling distractedly with his hair. Not only is he distracted, but his actions are distracting me, too. Is his hair really that colour naturally?

"You see…the thing is…"

"What, Ray? Don't tell me you're getting all embarrassed! I told you – it's all forgotten! It never happened, okay?"

"It didn't?"

"No! Well, it did, but that's not the point. Remember, you said it was mistake and I agreed? Not to mention, Kai looked like he was going to pound someone's face in."

"A mistake?"

"Totally. Unless… Oh my God! You haven't changed your mind, have you? Baby, I thought we decided it was for the best! I won't cheat on my boyfriend and I know you have some…_thing_…for Kai, so you have to understand, it can never happen!"

"It can't?"

"**NO!** Look, Ray, stop it! Stop making me the bad guy, here. It's all your fault, anyway. You're the one who kissed me!"

Insert goldfish expression here.

"Eh?"

I think I have stepped into a parallel universe. Apparently, it is not strange enough that Tala can act like _this_ and the Higher Powers That Be have decided to give me a minor heart attack with this new diamond of information.

I kissed Tala.

And I don't remember a thing.

_**Shit.**_

-

_You don't have to elbow your way through hordes of dancing clubbers, for a change. Instead, they part like the Red Sea did for Moses, and you decide that Tala must have a very good fashion sense to make you look so intimidating and – for lack of a better word – cool. You feel sure that you're wearing more make-up than most of the women around you, but for once you don't care. _

_Tala is dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor and you are suddenly struck by how attractive he really is. You then feel ashamed, partly because that thought was spawned by alcohol and partly because Kai is standing at the edge, looking infinitely and effortlessly hotter. You feel like you're betraying him. You are about to go over to him, to stand in what you hope would be companionable silence, but Tala grabs your hand instead and whirls you into the throng of dancers._

_Tala is a good dancer and you can't even begin to match him, but he doesn't mind and neither do you. You just rely on your natural grace and hope that Tala makes up for you. And he does. So much so that you feel like his confidence is seeping into you. You can't think what else it might be, as you've had very little alcohol and you waved away the dodgy-looking guy at the door that tried to sell you pills. You think it might be because of the sudden lack of air. Maybe you're asphyxiating._

_Emboldened, you dance closer to Tala and, grinning, he does so too. The rest of the crowd fills in the gap, so there isn't any space to move apart, even if you wanted to. He looks very beautiful in the strobe lighting, almost untouchable. You have a sudden urge to touch him, make sure he's real, so you wrap your arms around his waist. You are relieved when he touches you back, his arms around your neck, proving that he exists and isn't just a figment of your imagination._

_You look into his eyes but can't tell what colour they are and can't remember. In the lights, they are all colours, blue, red, green, one after the other. They both mesmerise you and give you a slight headache, so you look at something else. Your gaze wanders over his face before settling on his lips, which are smiling like they're new to the concept. You decide that you should teach them how to smile properly._

_You forget the owner of the violet eyes in the corner because he really is untouchable, unlike Tala, who is very real in your arms. You press your lips to his because you know how to smile. He presses back and he tastes of peppermint and smiles._

_-_

…

…

**Unfortunately, we are experiencing a system crash due to an unprecedented amount of data overloading the CPU. Please reboot and check for viruses.**

…

…

-

"Oh my god."

"Uh huh."

"You really…?"

"Uh huh."

"With Tala?"

"Uh huh."

"Wow."

Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby present you with My Friends – A Montage. As you can see, the theme is clearly stated throughout the work, with the idea of shock and disbelief conveyed through the media of their expressions. The open-mouthed look is used many times in the piece, a central point that is to be taken into account regarding the overall underlying message.

I.e. 'OMFG!'

It never ceases to amaze me how shallow people really are inside. I come here, to the sacred clan of Gays United, wanting advice on how to get back on Kai's good side because I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms and can't take much more of his cold-shoulder, but NO! They have to concentrate entirely on the fact that I played tonsil hockey with **Tala** of all people, because of course, their need for smut is clearly greater than my need for my best friend/potential lover back. Okay, scratch the potential lover. I'll just be happy for him to look at me, let alone for him to declare undying love for me and make said love to me in the snow.

Ouch. Maybe not in the snow - too cold. Brr.

"Look, guys, lets focus on the important things here. What am I going to do about Kai?"

"Oh, Ray," sighs Mystel, clearly thinking of giving me a hug. "When're you going to realise there are other fish in the sea? Like Tala! I mean, Kai's hot and all, but is he really worth all this?"

"I'm not going out with Tala-"

"Mystel," interrupts Julia, who has somehow invited herself here, despite the fact she is neither a guy nor gay. "You don't seem to realise just how in love with Kai he is. It's not just something he can over in two minutes and a steamy kiss with the love of his life's best friend. That's just stupid."

Clearly.

"How do _you_ know that?" I ask, disturbed. Has Julia been going through my diary? Not that I keep one…of course…

"I got it off Raul who got it off Garland who got it off Hiro who worked it out from some comments Tyson made."

"Wait a minute…TYSON knows?"

"No, silly. Hiro was just clever enough to recognise the signs his little brother was too short-sighted to see. Got a woman's eye, that man has."

I'm not sure if Hiro, who is mysteriously absent from the proceedings, as is Brooklyn, would have enough good-humour to take that as a compliment.

"Where are Hiro and Brooklyn, by the way?"

"They're off bonking somewhere. I think Hiro's making the most of the moment. He won't be so happy when he finds out Brooklyn went out with that blonde guy from the ski shop last night-"

Collective sigh. That blonde guy from the ski shop is H-O-T.

"-and he came back with that just-shagged look on his face."

Tut tut, Brooklyn, you fickle whore. Remind me to invite Julia to all future GU meetings. She can be an honorary member, 'cause she can bitch almost as well as us and we can all sigh over pretty guys. Don't think any of the other girls should come, though. Max would wheedle the truth out of Mariam with those big blue eyes of his and we all know Mariah is a definite _no_. Plus, Julia's kind of scary. Ever heard that the female of the species is more deadly than the male? Prime example. You couldn't make me tell her she couldn't come if you threatened to cut off my balls and play tennis with them.

"I can't believe that," mutters Miguel.

"Believe what?"

"Brooklyn. Until not very long ago, I was under the impression that he was wonderfully innocent and somehow entirely asexual."

"We all did," consoles Julia, patting his arm. "Until we found out that he and Hiro screw like bunnies every week or so and hate each other in between."

Hear hear. This piece of knowledge has only recently been brought to my attention too. Two weeks ago, late night, Mystel, hot chocolate. A combination that will tell you anything, whether you want to know it or not. I myself wasn't too fussed about knowing it. I too was quite happy with the assumption that Brooklyn wandered in his own private world on his own and it was a shock and a half to find out otherwise.

We all gossip happily about the two not-so-lovebirds and then disperse before I realise I still don't have a solution to my problem. Some friends they are. It is made even worse when I exit the cafeteria and see, right in front of me, the object of my problems. He's not alone either. Kai and Bryan are sitting on a bench, pretending it's not minus twenty, deep in conversation. It's in Russian too, so I have no chance of understanding it.

Not that there was any chance anyway. Kai, showing that inherent ability to sense that someone is looking at him, has noticed my presence. He glances at me, gives a slight sniff and then turns back to Bryan. I decide it is definitely not good to feel in love, crushed, desperate and insulted all in one go. The human body can only take so much strain before spontaneously combusting and I don't think the nice ski resort would like bits of charred Ray Kon spattered about their mountainside. Wouldn't be much fun for me either.

--

Now, after such a long absence, I feel that I need (but not necessarily deserve, mind you) some feedback. Preferably nice feedback. However, I am not against scolding. I do deserve that, having been gone for so long. I think the last time I updated this, it was before my summer exams. Well done to everyone who realised The Stig was a lean, mean racing driver from Top Gear. A fact that I think everyone should know.


End file.
